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STRAl  -.  -' 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


ERSONS,  PLACES  AND 
IDEAS :     MISCELLANEOUS 
ESSAYS. 


BY  B.  O.  FLOWER,  AUTHOR  OF 
"CIVILIZATION'S  INFERNO,"  "THE 
NEW  TIME,"  AND  "GERALD  MASSEY. 


WITH  OVER  THIRTY  FULL-PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THE  ARENA  PUBLISHING 
COMPANY,  COPLEY  SQUARE, 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  U.  S.  A. 


* 

(UftiS   ^ofume   is   inScri&eei 
to   tfte   memory 

(Sibeon  Q.  IReeb, 

@ne    op    tRe    pounelerS    op    ©JRe   ®)\rena 


maa 

ac^  unostentatious  aii.  to 
in   neeel   or  eliStreSS   aoaS 
equaffeil  6ij    fiiS    fifecra 
to  tfte  cauSe  of  Science 

,  ani.  fi 
tRougftt, 


of  Contents, 


CHAPTEK.  PAGE. 

I.  DEDICATION 

II.  CHARLES  DARWIN     .        . 7 

III.  AN  IDEALISTIC  DREAMER  WHO  SINGS  IN  THE  MINOR  KEY    .     10 

IV.  MASK  OR  MIRROR       .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .27 

V.  A  POET  OF  THE  PEOPLE    ....  .        .     37 

VI.  AFTER  SIXTY  YEARS  •  .        ...                 .        .50 

VII.  ClIESTER-ON-TIIE-DEE  ........       *>5 

VIII.  STROLLS  BEYOND  THE  WALLS  OF  CHESTER    .        .  86 

IX.  WINTER  DAYS  IN  FLORIDA       .        .        .....   106 

X.  RELIGIOUS  THOUGHT  IN  COLONIAL  DAYS 

XI.  SOME  SOCIAL  IDEALS  HELD  BY  VICTOR  HUGO        .        .        .   142 

XII.  FOSTERING  THE  SAVAGE  IN  THE  YOUNG          .        .        .        .   1^8 

XIII.  HYPNOTISM  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  PSYCHICAL  RESEARCH     .   1^9 

XIV.  CRUCIAL  MOMENTS  IN  NATIONAL  LIFE         .  .        .  178 

XV.  ROOM  FOR  THE  SOUL  OF  MAN         .        .        .        ...        .181 

XVI.  THE  AUGUST  PRESENT    .  ....  184 


HUuetrations, 


PAGE. 

CHAKLES  DARWIN,  Full-Page  Portrait  With  Autograph     ...        6 
LOUISE  CHANDLER  MOULTON,  Full-Page  Portrait  With  Autograph      18 
SMALL  PORTRAIT  OF  MR.  HEARN  AND  THRP:E  SCENES  FROM  SHORE- 
ACRES       .        ...        .  26 

JAMES  G.  CLARK,  Full-Page  Portrait  With  Autograph       .  36 

BISHOP  LLOYD'S  HOUSE,  CHESTER .66 

A  ROMAN  ALTAR  FOUND  IN  EXCAVATION  IN  CHESTER       .  66 

THE  OLD  STANLEY  PALACE  . 67 

A  VIEW  OF  WATERGATE  TOWER  AND  THE  CITY  WALLS     .        .        .      68 
PHCENIX  TOWER  FROM  THE  CANAL        .        .        .        .  .        .70 

A  STREET  IN  CHESTER  ...      . .       ...        .     ."  .        .        .72 

GOD'S  PROVIDENCE  HOUSE    .        .        .        v       .        .        .        .        .      73 

RUINS  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  ST.  JOHN  .      ' 74 

THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  CHESTER      .        .        .        .  .        .        .75 

OLD  CLOISTER  BELONGING  TO  THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  CHESTER     .        .     76 
THE  GROSVENOR  BRIDGE  OVER  THE  DEE     .        .        .•  ^    ...     78 
CHESTER  FROM  THE  DEE        .        ...        .        .        ...        .88 

EATON  HALL,  The  Country  Seat  Of  The  Duke  Of  Westminster  .         .     90 

GRAND  SALOON  IN  EATON  HALL  .        . 92 

LIBRARY  IN  EATON  HALL     ...        .        ....        .94 

PORTRAIT  OF  GLADSTONE  AND  HIS  GRANDDAUGHTER        .        .        .     97 
HAWARDEN,  The  Home  Of  W.  E.  Gladstone        .         .        .  99 

WINTER  SCENES  ON  AN  ISLAND  IN  THE  HALIFAX  RIVER   .        .  107 

THE  TOMOKA  RIVER ....    108 

A  VIEW  OF  THE  HALIFAX  RIVER  FROM  HALIFAX  PENINSULA  OPPO 
SITE  DAYTONA  110 


illustrations, 

PAGE. 

TOMOKA  CABIN  ON  THE  BANK  OF  THE  TOMOKA  .        .        .        .Ill 

WINTER  SCENE  ON  THE  HALIFAX  BEACH    .        .  .        x        .112 

WINTER  BATHING  ON  EAST  COAST  OF  FLORIDA  ...        .        .   113 

MOONLIGHT  ON  THE  HALIFAX  BEACH 114 

CLAM  DIGGING  AND  BATHING  ON  THE  HALIFAX  BEACH  IN  FEB 
RUARY      .         .        .        .'        .        .....        .  --    .        .115 

A  STORM  ON  THE  OCEAN        . 116 

RIVER  ROAD  FROM  DAYTONA  TO  HOLLY  HILL     .        .        .        .        .118 

BEACH  STREET,  DAYTONA,  FLORIDA ,  120 

VOLUSIA  AVENUE,  DAYTONA,  FLORIDA =121 

ANOTHER  SCENE  ON  BEACH  STREET,  DAYTONA          .        .        .        ,  122 
RIDGEWOOD  AVENUE,  DAYTONA,  FLORIDA         .        .        .        r        .124 
LIVE  OAK  AND  PALMETTO  ON   THE  RIVER  BANKS  AT  DAYTONA  .  125 
THE  PALMETTO  IN  BLOSSOM          .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  126 

THE  ORANGE  BLOSSOM          .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  128 

MAGNOLIA  BLOSSOMS     .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .   '  .129 

VICTOR  HUGO,  Full-Page  Portrait  With  Autograph    .        .        .        .  143 


a.  jr. 


Xife  of  Cbarlea  2)arwiru 


i. 

THE  name  of  Charles  Darwin  will  ever  be  pre-eminent  among 
the  immortal  coterie  of  commanding  thinkers  who  have  made 
the  nineteenth  century  the  most  notable  epoch  in  the  history  of 
scientific  thought  and  attainment.  The  influence  of  his  careful 
and  patient  research  and  the  logical  deductions  which  he  gave 
mankind  in  his  masterly  volumes  have  changed,  to  a  great 
extent,  the  current  of  a  world's  thought.  Not  that  Darwin 
alone  accomplished  this,  for  never  was  king  surrounded  by  more 
loyal  knights  than  was  this  great  man  environed  by  giant  think 
ers  who  nobly  fought  for  the  thought  he  sought  to  establish, 
against  the  combined  opposition  of  established  religious  and 
scholastic  conservatism.  But  the  important  fact  must  not  be 
overlooked  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  years  of  patient  observa 
tion  and  research,  which  enabled  Mr.  Darwin  tangibly  to  demon 
strate  the  truth  of  many  important  contested  questions,  the 
splendid  philosophical  presentations  of  Spencer,  the  important 
labors  of  Dr.  Alfred  Russel  Wallace,  and  other  scarcely  less 
vigorous  thinkers  would  have  only  been  sufficient  to  arouse  a 
fierce  war,  which  even  a  century  might  not  have  settled,  in 
favor  of  the  bold  innovators.  Hence  Mr.  Darwin  will  ever  stand 
as  the  great  apostle  of  evolutionary  thought,  vaguely  fore 
shadowed  by  Buffon,  St.  Hilaire,  and  Erasmus  Darwin,  and 
boldly  outlined  by  Lamarck.  Around  his  head  the  storm  of  con 
servatism,  intolerance,  and  religious  bigotry  played.  He  was 
sneeringly  styled  the  "monkey man,"  and  his  thoughtful  observa 
tions  and  deductions,  which  were  the  results  of  more  than  thirty 
years  of  patient  research,  were  wantonly  caricatured  and  dis"- 
torted  by  men  who  above  all  others  should  have  demanded  for 
them  a  frank  and  candid  hearing.  It  is  eminently  proper,  there 
fore,  that  by  common  consent  Charles  Darwin  be  assigned  the 
loftiest  niche  in  the  temple  of  evolutionary  thought.  And  yet 
we  must  never  forget  that  he  was  essentially  a  demonstrator;  his 
mind  ever  dwelt  upon  the  special  —  the  minute.  The  broad, 
philosophical  vision  of  Herbert  Spencer  was  absent  in  Darwin ; 
and  in  the  nature  of  the  case  he  could  not  see,  much  less  develop, 
the  full  ethical  significance  of  the  truth  of  which  he  is  the  most 


8  persons,  places  ant)  flfceas, 

illustrious  prophet.  There  is  another  phase  of  Darwin's  life 
which  renders  it  peculiarly  interesting  and  helpful.  In  the  man 
we  find  one  of  the  noblest  types  of  nineteenth-century  life. 
Darwin  the  scientist  is  imposing.  Darwin  the  man  is  inspiring. 
The  former  stimulates  the  intellect ;  the  latter  enriches,  by  its 
luminous  example,  the  soul  life  of  all  who  patiently  follow  the 
great  savant  through  the  long  years  of  invalidism,  in  which  his 
sweet  spirit  ever  shone  resplendent,  and  his  love  for  truth  was 
an  over-mastering  passion. 

II. 

In  the  life  of  Charles  Darwin  we  find  a  striking  illustration  of 
the  gradual  unfolding  or  evolution  of  character.  In  boyhood  he 
was  neither  bright  nor  over-burdened  with  virtue ;  in  his  early 
life  we  search  in  vain  for  any  of  those  luminous  scintillations  of 
genius  which  have  characterized  the  youth  of  many  illustrious 
persons.  Indeed,  if  we  are  to  rely  on  the  charmingly  frank  auto 
biography  written  for  his  children,  he  was  a  very  commonplace 
boy,  generally  considered  dull,  and  more  or  less  given  to  lying, 
not  with  a  vicious  intent,  but  owing  to  a  youthful  desire  to  create 
a  sensation. 

Charles  Darwin  was  not  a  person  who  would  have  shone  in 
any  walk  of  life ;  indeed,  if  his  father  had  not  been  a  man  of 
means,  and  the  son  had  felt  compelled  to  qualify  himself  for  the 
profession  of  a  physician,  as  was  at  first  contemplated,  or  if  he 
had  entered  the  ministry  of  the  Church  of  England,  for  which 
he  was  afterward  partially  qualified,  he  would,  in  all  probability, 
have  passed  his  life  in  some  obscure  nook  unknown  to  fame,  for 
he  was  singularly  free  from  ambition. 

It  was  his  great  quenchless  love  for  scientific  pursuits,  largely 
inherited  from  his  grandfather,  whose  latent  fires  Professor  Hens- 
low  fanned  into  flames,  and  later  his  great  desire  to  aid  in  solving 
the  mystery  of  life,  which  haunted  his  every  step,  urging  him 
onward  with  irresistible  sway.  Indeed,  we  may  say  Charles  Dar 
win  became  famous  in  spite  of  himself. 

Of  his  boyhood,  he  observes,  in  an  abandon  of  candor :  — 

I  believe  that  I  was  considered  by  all  my  masters  and  by  my  father 
as  a  very  ordinary  boy,  rather  below  the  common  standard  in  intellect. 
To  my  deep  mortification,  my  father  once  said  to  me:  "You  care  for 
nothing  but  shooting,  dogs,  and  rat-catching,  and  you  will  be  a  disgrace 
to  yourself  and  all  your  family."  But  my  father,  who  was  the  kindest 
man  I  ever  knew,  and  whose  memory  I  love  with  all  my  heart,  must 
have  been  angry  and  somewhat  unjust  when  he  used  such  words. 

Again  he  continues :  — 

One  little  event  has  fixed  itself  very  firmly  in  my  mind,  and  I  hope 
that  it  has  done  so  from  my  conscience  having  been  afterwards  sorely 


%tfe  of  Cbarles  2)arwin.  9 

troubled  by  it.  I  told  another  little  boy  [I  believe  it  was  Leigliton,  who 
afterwards  became  a  well-known  lichenologist  and  botanist],  that  I  could 
produce  variously  colored  polyanthuses  and  primroses  by  watering  them 
with  certain  colored  fluids,  which  was,  of  course,  a  monstrous  fable, 
and  had  never  been  tried  by  me.  I  may  here  also  confess  that  as  a  little 
boy  I  was  much  given  to  inventing  deliberate  falsehoods,  and  this  always 
was  done  for  the  sake  of  causing  excitement.  For  instance,  I  once 
gathered  much  valuable  fruit  from  my  father's  trees  and  hid  it  in  the 
shrubbery,  and  then  ran  in  breathless  haste  to  spread  the  news  that  I  had 
discovered  a  hoard  of  stolen  fruit.  I  must  have  been  a  very  simple  little 
fellow  when  I  first  went  to  the  school.  A  boy  of  the  name  of  Garnett 
took  me  into  a  cake  shop  one  day,  and  bought  some  cakes  for  which  he 
did  not  pay,  as  the  shopmpn  trusted  him.  When  we  came  out  I  asked  him 
why  he  did  not  pay  for  them,  and  he  instantly  answered,  "  Why,  do  you 
not  know  that  my  unc)-2  left  a  great  sum  of  money  to  the  town  on  condi 
tion  that  every  tradesman  should  give  whatever  was  wanted  without 
payment  to  any  ore  who  wore  his  old  hat  and  moved  [it]  in  a  particular 
manner?"  and  ho  then  showed  me  how  it  was  moved.  He  then  went 
into  another  shop  where  he  was  trusted,  and  asked  for  some  small  article, 
moving  his  hat  in  the  proper  manner,  and  of  course  obtained  it  without 
payment.  When  we  came  out  he  said,  "  Now  if  you  like  to  go  by  yourself 
into  that  cake  shop,  I  will  lend  you  my  hat,  and  you  can  get  whatever  you 
like  if  you  move  the  hat  on  your  head  properly."  I  gladly  accepted  the 
generous  offer,  and  went  in  and  asked  for  some  cakes,  moved  the  old  hat, 
and  was  walking  out  of  the  shop  when  the  shopman  made  a  rush  at  me. 
So  I  dropped  the  cakes  and  ran  for  dear  life,  and  was  astonished  by 
being  greeted  with  shouts  of  laughter  by  my  false  friend  Garnett. 

These  frank  observations  are  valuable  as  indicating  that  in 
the  youth  we  see  little  upon  which  we  might  reasonably  predicate 
a  brilliant  future.  He  possessed,  however,  strong  and  diversified 
taste,  "  much  zeal  for  whatever  interested  him,  and  a  keen  pleas 
ure  in  understanding  any  complex  subject  or  thing."  *  But  while 
painstaking  and  persevering  along  lines  of  research  which  were 
attractive,  he  was  ill-disposed  to  master  any  subject  for  which 
he  had  no  taste.  Thus  he  declares  that  his  early  schooling,  which 
extended  over  a  period  of  seven  years,  "  was  simply  a  blank," 
owing  to  the  fact  that  the  curriculum  was  strictly  classical,  and 
for  such  study  Darwin  had  neither  aptitude  nor  taste. 

When  fifteen  years  old,  his  father  sent  him  to  Edinburgh,  as  it 
had  been  determined  that  he  should  become  a  physician.  Of  his 
experience  here  he  says  :  — 

The  instruction  at  Edinburgh  was  altogether  by  lectures,  and  these 
were  intolerably  dull,  with  the  exception  of  those  on  Chemistry  by 
Hope.  Dr.  Duncan's  lectures  on  Materia  Medica  at  eight  o'clock  on  a 

winter's  morning  are   something  fearful  to  remember.     Dr. made 

his  lectures  on  human  anatomy  as  dull  as  he  was  himself,  and  the  sub 
ject  disgusted  me.  .  .  .  During  my  second  year  at  Edinburgh  I  at 
tended 's  lectures  on  Geology  and  Zoology,  but  they  were  incred 
ibly  dull.  The  sole  effect  they  produced  on  me  was  the  determination 
never  as  long  as  I  lived  to  read  a  book  on  Geology,  or  in  any  way  to 
study  the  science. 

*  "  Life  and  Letters  of  Charles  Darwin,"  Vol.  I.,  page  30. 


10  persons,  places  anfc  Ut>eas, 

After  spending  two  sessions  in  Edinburgh,  his  father,  who  had 
learned  that  his  son  did  not  intend  to  practice  medicine,  deter 
mined  to  have  him  enter  the  clergy.  Accordingly  he  was  sent 
to  Cambridge,  where  he  passed  three  years ;  and  owing  to  lax 
examinations  and  some  extra  studying  immediately  before  exam 
ination,  he  succeeded  in  passing  his  examinations,  being  tenth  in 
the  list.  Of  his  school  days  at  Cambridge,  he  writes  :  — 

During  the  three  years  which  I  spent  at  Cambridge  my  time  was 
wasted,  as  far  as  the  academical  studies  were  concerned,  as  completely 
as  at  Edinburgh  and  at  school.  I  attempted  mathematics,  and  even 
went  during  the  summer  of  1828  with  a  private  tutor  [a  very  dull  man] 
to  Barmouth,  but  I  got  on  very  slowly.  The  work  was  repugnant 
to  me,  chiefly  from  my  not  being  able  to  see  any  meaning  in  the  early 
steps  in  algebra.  With  respect  to  classics,  I  did  nothing  except  attend  a 
few  compulsory  college  lectures,  and  the  attendance  was  almost  nomi 
nal.  In  my  second  year  I  had  to  work  for  a  month  or  two  to  pass  the 
Little-Go,  which  I  did  easily.  Again,  in  my  last  year  I  worked  with 
some  earnestness  for  my  final  degree  of  E.  A.,  and  brushed  up  my 
classics,  together  with  a  little  Algebra  and  Euclid.  In  order  to  pass  the 
B.  A.  examination,  it  was  also  necessary  to  get  up  "  Paley's  Evidences  of 
Christianity"  and  his  "Moral  Philosophy."  This  was  done  in  a  thor 
ough  manner,  and  I  am  convinced  that  I  could  have  written  out  the  whole 
of  the  "Evidences"  with  perfect  correctness,  but  not  of  course  in  the 
clear  language  of  Paley.  The  logic  of  this  book  and,  as  I  may  add,  of 
his  "Natural  Theology,"  gave  .me  much  delight.  I  did  not  at  that  time 
trouble  myself  about  Paley's  premises,  and,  taking  these  on  trust,  I  was 
charmed  and  convinced  by  the  long  line  of  argumentation. 

In  the  light  of  the  above  observations  of  Mr.  Darwin,  coupled 
with  his  statement  that  he  had  previously  mastered  "  Pearson  on 
the  Creeds"  and  other  standard  theological  works,  and  that  he 
looked  forward  with  keen  delight  to  the  prospect  of  being  a 
clergyman,  it  is  interesting  to  remember  that  within  a  few  brief 
years  he  was  destined  to  call  forth,  as  did  no  other  individual  of 
his  generation,  an  avalanche  of  denunciation,  misrepresentation, 
and  bitter  invective  from  the  world  of  Christian  thought.  What 
would  have  been  his  amazement  if,  while  he  was  revelling  in 
"  Paley's  Evidences,"  the  curtain  of  futurity  had  parted  before 
him,  revealing  the  Charles  Darwin  of  thirty  years  later,  then 
the  storm-centre  of  a  world's  thought,  with  the  lightning  of 
clerical  wrath  playing  about  him  and  the  thunders  of  theological 
and  conservative  thought  crashing  above  his  head.  Darwin,  the 
theological  student,  gave  small  hint  of  holding  within  the  woof 
and  web  of  his  brain  the  thought-germs  which  were  destined  to 
play  so  important  a  part  in  changing  the  current  of  a  world's 
thought;  and  had  it  not  been  for  a  few  seemingly  trivial  happen 
ings  and  events  which  occurred  about  this  time,  the  world  would 
probably  know  even  less  of  Charles  Darwin  to-day  than  it  does 
of  his  obscure  brother.  But  for  his  meeting  with  Professor 
Ilenslow,  who  seemed  drawn  with  a  strange  fascination  to  the 


%tfe  of  Cbaries  Darwin.  n 

young  student ;  but  for  Darwin  chancing  to  read  Humboldt's 
"  Personal  Narrative,"  which  stirred  his  wrhole  nature  and  fired 
him  with  an  intense  longing  to  contribute  in  a  small  way  to  the 
noble  structure  of  natural  science ;  and,  lastly,  had  not  the  cap 
tain  of  the  Beagle  desired  to  take  with  him  a  competent  natural 
ist  during  his  voyage  around  the  world,  it  is  more  than  probable 
that  the  great  philosopher  would  have  been  simply  the  Rev. 
Charles  Darwin,  officiating  at  some  retired  parish.  Is  it  chance 
or  destiny  which  so  often,  in  the  most  unexpected  and  seemingly 
trivial  circumstance,  alters  the  course  of  a  life,  which  in  turn 
changes  the  current  of  a  world's  thought?  The  ifs  of  history 
and  biography  are  a  theme  interesting  and  perplexing.  Here 
is  a  boy,  devoid  of  all  ambition  for  renown,  accounted  dull, 
plodding  through  college,  nearing  the  day  when  he  is  to  enter 
the  clergy;  but  his  association  with  a  great  student  of  natural 
science,  who  is  also  an  enthusiast,  results  in  firing  in  the  youth 
the  hereditary  love  of  physical  science  inherited  from  his 
grandfather.  Humboldt's  work  adds  greatly  to  the.  already 
kindled  flame.  Next,  the  unexpected  opening  for  him  to  go  as 
naturalist  on  the  Beagle,  and  finally  the  overcoming  of  his 
father's  stubborn  opposition  to  this  journey  by  Charles  Darwin's 
uncle,  Josiah  Wedgwood.  These  are  the  principal  links  in  the 
chain  of  circumstances  which  changed  the  theological  student 
into  the  foremost  naturalist  of  our  century,  and  through  Dar- 
wrin's  observations  and  demonstrations  changed,  in  an  almost 
incredibly  short  time,  the  scientific  thought  of  the  world,  requir 
ing  a  readjustment  of  theology  and  giving  to  life  and  law  a 
vaster  and  nobler  significance  than  they  had  hitherto  held  in  the 
human  mind.  Were  these  links,  the  absence  of  any  one  of  which 
might  have  been  fatal,  the  result  of  blind  chance  or  a  law-ordered 
destiny  ? 

III. 

The  five  years'  cruise  of  the  Beagle,  the  real  university  course 
of  Darwin,  the  physical  scientist,  was  so  rich  in  information  that 
from  the  garnered  truths,  in  the  course  of  time,  a  world  was  to 
be  moved,  nay  more,  the  thought  of  ages  was  destined,  largely 
through  the  accretions  of  knowledge  thus  gained,  to  be  revolu 
tionized.  We  have  seen  from  his  own  utterances  how  unsat 
isfactory  was  his  scholastic  training.  Now,  however,  he  stepped 
into  the  broad  expanse  of  a  new  world.  Here,  for  the  first  time, 
the  hunger  of  his  soul  experienced  satisfaction.  No  longer  com 
pelled  to  feed  upon  the  husks  of  classical  thought,  but  untram 
melled  under  the  great  blue  dome,  with  zone-wide  class  room  in 
which  to  master  Nature's  profoundest  truths,  Charles  Darwin, the 
dunce,  became  an  intellectual  Titan.  True,  his  illustrious  prede- 


12  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

cessors  had  blazed  the  way  with  speculative  thought  before  him, 
and  this,  to  a  mind  like  the  young  naturalist's,  was  of  inestimable 
value ;  indeed,  had  not  the  luminous,  speculative  thought  of  St. 
Hilaire,  Erasmus  Darwin,  and  Lamarck  shone  as  a  pillar  of  lire 
before  him,  it  is  doubtful  whether  Darwin  would  have  made  any 
distinctively  epoch-marking  contributions  to  science,  because  the 
younger  naturalist  was  a  demonstrator  rather  than  a  discoverer. 
He  belonged  to  that  class  whose  intellect  always  require  a  clue ; 
with  that,  through  profound  research  and  unflagging  perseverance, 
they  demonstrate  great  truths.  Besides  this  mental  peculiarity, 
his  extreme  lack  of  confidence  in  himself  or  the  proper  value  of 
his  own  works  would  have  prevented  his  advancing  his  discoveries 
in  any  other  than  a  tentative  or  hesitating  manner,  had  he  felt 
that  he  was  announcing  a  theory  not  only  contrary  to  the  world- 
accepted  thought,  but  one  undreamed  of  by  human  minds  before 
him. 

In  Brazil,  Darwin  for  the  first  time  beheld  the  teeming,  strug 
gling,  self-strangling  life  of  the  tropics.  Here  he  beheld  sugges 
tions  of  that  life  which  through  unknown  ages  marked  our  globe 
from  pole  to  pole.  Next  passed  before  him  in  slowly  moving 
panorama  the  treeless  pampas  of  South  America;  Patagonia, 
with  its  well-nigh  Arctic  zone,  its  almost  naked  savages,  and  its 
interesting  natural  features,  standing  in  bold  contrast  to  the 
lately  visited  luxuriance  of  Brazil.  The  Andes  of  the  Western 
coast  were  next  explored,  and  from  their  rock- writ  records  im 
portant  truths  hitherto  unobserved  were  gleaned.  From  South 
America  the  Beagle  traversed  the  Pacific  in  a  serpentine  course, 
weighing  anchor  at  the  Galapagos  Archipelago,  the  Polynesian 
Islands,  New  Zealand,  and  Australia.  At  each  point  Darwin 
made  discoveries  of  moment,  either  in  geology,  zoology,  or  bot 
any  ;  while  as  straws  carried  by  a  strong  current,  numerous  bio 
logical  facts  drifted  before  his  mental  vision,  tending  to  confirm 
the  great  theory  which  was  already  taking  possession  of  his  mind. 
In  Australia, Darwin  personally  examined  a  fragment  of  an  ancient 
world ;  here  is  found  antiquated  fauna  strangely  like  the  life  of 
Europe  ages  ago.  At  the  Keeling  Island, our  scientific  Columbus 
made  further  discoveries  and  observations  of  the  coral  reefs, 
destined  to  produce  an  important  impression  on  the  thought  of 
his  age. 

From  Australia,  the  Beagle  slowly  moved  homeward,  making 
many  stops  of  more  or  less  importance  to  Darwin,  among  which 
were  Mauritius,  St.  Helena,  and  the  Azores.  On  Oct.  2,  1836, 
the  weather-beaten  vessel  reached  England,  having  circumnavi 
gated  the  globe,  although  she  had  consumed  five  instead  of  two 
years  of  time,  as  was  expected  when  she  sailed. 

Darwin  was  particularly  fitted  by  nature  for  the  work  he  was 


Xtfe  of  Cbarles  Darwin.  13 

called  upon  to  perform.  His  was  the  mind  of  a  specialist.  The 
most  minute  objects  attracted  his  attention  no  less  than  the 
remains  of  the  mammoth  forms  which  inhabited  the  globe  ages 
before  the  advent  of  man.  Thus  we  find  him  patiently  examin 
ing  through  his  microscope  the  dust  which  the  wind  blows  upon 
the  ship.  Though  a  specialist,  his  mind  ran  not  in  a  narrow 
groove.  Everything  relating  to  biology  of  course  held  for  him 
a  special  charm;  geology,  zoology,  botany,  and,  indeed,  all  the 
phases  of  physical  science  exerted  an  irresistible  fascination  over 
his  mind.  Again,  he  was  probably  the  most  painstaking  and  per 
severing  working  naturalist  of  our  age.  While  on  board  the 
Beagle,  during  the  entire  voyage,  he  suffered  most  distressingly 
from  sea-sickness ;  yet  he  daily  persevered  in  his  microscopical 
investigation  and  scientific  observations  with  unremitting  perse 
verance,  although  he  frequently  found  it  necessary  to  leave  his 
work  for  a  time  and  seek  a  horizontal  attitude. 

IV. 

Judging  from  the  large  number  of  voluminous  books  written 
by  the  invalid  worker  of  Down,*  one  would  suppose  his  was  a 
wonderfully  facile  pen ;  but  such  Avas  by  no  means  the  case. 
He  had  poor  command  of  language  and  was  unusually  slow  and 
clumsy  as  a  writer,  frequently  having  to  recast  a  sentence  many 
times  before  he  succeeded  in  conveying  the  idea  he  desired  to 
present  on  paper.  In  writing  of  this  great  hindrance  to  work  he 
observed :  "  There  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  fatality  in  my  mind, 
leading  me  to  put  my  statements  or  propositions  at  first  in  a 
wrong  or  awkward  form."  And  again,  toward  the  close  of  life, 
he  says  :  "  I  have  as  much  difficulty  as  ever  in  expressing  myself 
clearly  and  concisely,  and  this  difficulty  has  caused  me  a  great 
loss  of  time."  What,  however,  Darwin  lacked  in  ease  and  fa 
cility  of  expression,  he  made  up  in  perseverance.  His  work 
haunted  him  ni«;ht  and  day.  He  realized  that  more  than  one 
lifetime  would  be  necessary  properly  to  marshal  the  multitude 
of  vital  facts  which  crowded  upon  his  mental  vision.  Thus  for 
over  forty  years  he  toiled  with  brain  and  pen,  dying  in  the  armor, 
before  his  magnificent  intellect,  which  had  revolutionized  a  world, 
had  become  dimmed,  and  in  this  particular  the  oft-repeated  desire 
of  his  life  was  granted. 

In  1839  Darwin  published  his  "Journal  of  Researches  in  Xat- 
ural  History  and  Geology  of  the  Countries  Visited  during  the 
Voyage  of  H.  M.  S.  Beagle."  It  scored  an  immediate  success, 
much  to  the  surprise  and  gratification  of  its  author.  Pie  shortly 
after  edited  the  publication  of  the  "  Zoology  of  the  Voyage  of 

*  Darwin,  after  circumnavigating  the  prlobe,  settled  for  a  time  in  London,  but  after 
ward  removed  to  a  comfortable,  roomy  home  in  Down,  where  he  passed  the  long  laborious 
years  of  his  useful  life  in  tireless  work. 


14  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas* 

H.  M.  S.  Beagle,"  a  work  which  comprised  five  large  volumes. 
In  1842  he  published  -'The  Structure  and  Distribution  of  Coral 
Reefs,"  a  discussion  which  greatly  enhanced  his  reputation. 
In  rapid  succession  appeared  other  valuable  scientific  trea 
tises  ;  indeed,  the  amount  of  literary  work  accomplished  by  Mr. 
Darwin  is  amazing  Avhen  it  is  remembered  that  his  entire  literary 
career  was  one  long  night  of  painful  invalidism,  apart  from  which 
writing  was  always  slow  and  laborious  work.  In  1859  he  electri 
fied  the  scientific  world  by  bringing  out  his  great  masterwork, 
"The  Origin  of  Species."  It  was  a  bugle  call.  Instantaneously 
the  old  and  new  thought  among  scientists  were  marshalled  under 
opposing  banners,  and  one  of  the  most  fierce  and  decisive  battles 
known  in  the  history  of  literature  was  fought.  Fortunately  for 
Darwin,  however,  the  age  had  produced  a  race  of  giants,  many 
of  whom,  like  the  author  of  "The  Origin  of  Species,"  had  caught 
inspiration  from  Lamarck.  These  at  once  arranged  themselves 
around  Mr.  Darwin.  The  magnificent  brain  of  Herbert  Spencer 
had  before  this  given  the  world  the  luminous  truths  from  the 
realm  of  the  speculative  philosophy,  while  so  great  a  working 
naturalist  as  Wallace  reinforced  Darwin  with  the  rich  treasures 
he  had  gathered  during  years  of  patient  study  under  the  torrid 
sun  of  the  Malay  Archipelago.  The  Church,  as  was  perfectly 
natural,  ranged  herself  upon  the  side  of  conservatism,  and  as 
sailed  this  new  thought  with  a  bitterness  of  spirit  which  indi 
cated  that  she  had  not  left  the  Dark  Ages  so  far  behind  her  that 
the  spirit  Avhich  made  them  one  long  night  of  horrors  had  entirely 
disappeared.  As  a  rule,  the  scientific  criticism  was  dignified,  and 
though  often  bitter,  the  writers  were  usually  as  fair  as  could  be 
expected.  The  reviewers,  however,  who  possessed  little  or  no 
knowledge  of  physical  science,  often  assailed  they  knew  not 
what,  being  inspired  by  fanatical  zeal  resulting  from  a  wide 
spread  fear  that  the  new  thought  would  destroy  religion.  These 
critics  frequently  grossly  misrepresented,  mercilessly  ridiculed, 
and  childishly  caricatured  the  great  patient  disciple  of  nature, 
whose  sole  purpose  in  life  was  to  add  to  man's  heritage  of  truth. 
It  would  be  amusing,  if  it  were  not  pathetic,  to  note  how  society 
is  ever  overtaken  with  the  ague  of  fear  when  a  new  truth  dawns 
on  the  world.  To  conservatism  all  innovations  are  unwelcome 
intrusions;  and  usually,  conventional  thought  .seeks,  in  whatever 
way  the  spirit  of  the  age  approves,  to  destroy  the  influence  of  the 
promoters  of  progress.  It  may  be  the  stake,  as  in  the  case  of 
Bruno ;  it  may  be  the  prison,  as  was  the  case  in  Galileo's  time. 
It  may  be  social  ostracism,  as  has  characterized  the  treatment  of 
hundreds  of  the  chosen  spirits  of  a  later  day.  In  Darwin's 
case,  the  Church  sought  to  destroy  his  influence  by  fierce  in 
vectives,  biting  sarcasm  and  wholesale  ridicule.  Yet  it  must  be 


Xtfe  of  Cbaries  Darwin,  15 

remembered  that  the  thought  was  so  bold  and  to  the  masses  so 
new,  that  it  seemed  to  strike  a  deadly  blow  at  the  root  of  the 
tree  of  revelation.  The  Church  felt  that  if  Darwin  succeeded, 
religion  must  fall.  Thus,  instead  of  inquiring  whether  or  not  the 
theory  advanced  was  true,  the  clergy  felt  called  upon  to  proceed 
after  the  manner  of  the  Irish  community,  which  inquired  into 
the  facts  relating  to  the  prisoner's  guilt  after  they  had  hanged 
the  accused.  To  all  this  calumny  and  misrepresentation,  Charles 
Darwin,  be  it  said  to  his  honor,  never  wasted  a  precious  moment 
in  useless  controversy.  Grandly  he  stood, a  colossus,  enveloped 
by  the  abuse  of  ignorance  and  bigotry,  serene  in  the  conviction 
that  he  held  the  thread  of  a  great  truth  which  mankind  must 
in  the  fulness  of  time  accept.  The  more  men  misrepresented 
and  abused,  the  harder  he  worked  to  prove  his  position  by  incon 
trovertible  facts  and  practical  demonstrations.  "  The  Origin  of 
Species "  was  an  epoch-marking  book.  During  the  intervening 
years  between  its  publication  in  1859  and  the  publication  of  his 
other  masterpiece,  "The  Descent  of  Man,"  in  1871,  Mr.  Darwin 
made  a  number  of  important  contributions  to  scientific  literature. 
"  The  Descent  of  Man,"  however,  to  a  certain  extent,  aroused 
anew  the  battle  of  1859.  During  these  years  the  theory  of 
evolution  had  rapidly  grown  in  favor  among  thoughtful  people; 
in  1871  it  was  clearly  evident  that  the  trend  of  the  best  thought 
had  set  in  Darwin  ward ;  and  though  from  the  date  of  this  last 
great  work  until  his  death,  eleven  years  later,  he  added  materially 
to  the  rich  store  of  facts  he  had  given  the  world,  it  is  by  the 
"Origin"  and  "Descent"  that  Darwin  will  live  throughout  suc 
ceeding  ages.  These  noble  works  were  the  breastworks  around 
which  the  fiercest  intellectual  battle  of  modern  times  was  fought; 
but  the  noble,  patient  and  persevering  laborer  had  the  splendid 
satisfaction  of  living  to  see  the  breastworks  not  only  remain 
impregnable,  but  the  surrender  of  a  vast  majority  of  competent 
scientists  of  the  day.  Two  years  before  Darwin's  death,  Pro 
fessor  Huxley  delivered  his  famous  address  on  "  The  Coming 
Age  of  the  Origin  of  Species."  Of  this  notable  utterance  Mr. 
Grant  Allen  fittingly  observes  :  — 

The  time  was  a  favorable  one  for  reviewing  the  silent  and  almost 
unobserved  progress  of  a  great  revolution.  Twenty-one  years  had  come 
and  gone  since  the  father  of  modern  scientific  evolutionism  had  launched 
upon  the  world  his  tentative  work.  In  those  twenty-one  years  the 
thought  of  humanity  had  been  twisted  around  as  upon  some  invisible 
pivot,  and  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  had  been  presented  to  the  eyes 
of  seers  and  thinkers. 

Y. 

Unfortunately,  the  private  life  of  many  of  the  world's  greatest 
thinkers  will  not  bear  close  scrutiny ;  indeed,  the  possession  of  a 
brain  capable  of  marvellous  penetration  and  dazzling  intellectual 


16  persons,  places  anfc  H&eas, 

flights  has  so  frequently  been  marred  by  the  presence  of  an 
unbalanced  condition  in  other  directions,  that  the  very  word 
"  genius  "  has  come  to  suggest  to  some  close  thinkers  the  presence 
of  insanity.  Often  men  of  the  largest  brains  have  displayed  the 
smallest  natures.  An  almost  godlike  power  of  intuition,  and 
the  eagle  wings  of  genius  have  so  frequently  been  chained  to 
jealousy,  personal  ambition,  indifference  to  others,  immorality, 
and  an  offensive  self-worship,  that  the  biographer  has  touched 
upon  the  character  and  home  life  of  his  subject  with  feelings  of 
keenest  sadness.  Not  so  with  the  writer  who  deals  with  the  life 
of  Charles  Darwin,  as  the  power  of  his  wonderful  mind  was  only 
second  to  the  charm  of  his  noble  personality.  lie  was  the  most 
unselfish  and  sincere  of  men;  a  stranger  to  that  personal  ambi 
tion  which  ruthlessly  treads  upon  the  happiness  and  the  merit  of 
others;  devoid  of  all  traces  of  jealousy;  diffident,  indeed,  as  I 
have  before  observed,  his  diffidence  was  so  marked  that  it  is  not 
improbable  that  the  world  would  never  have  received  his  best 
thought  had  not  Lamarck  and  other  great  thinkers  blazed  the 
way  before  him.  I  know  of  no  life  where  the  supreme  mastery 
of  self  was  more  strikingly  illustrated  than  in  the  career  of  Dar 
win  after  he  entered  the  portals  of  manhood.  In  writing  of  him 
in  after  years,  Sir  James  Sullivan,  who  sailed  on  the  Beagle, 
observed:  "I  can  confidently  express  my  belief  that  during  five 
years  on  the  Beagle  he  was  never  known  to  be  out  of  temper,  or 
to  say  one  unkind  or  harsh  word  of  or  to  any  one."  The  mar 
vellous  command  which  Darwin  at  this  early  date  had  over  his 
temper  will  be  better  appreciated  if  we  remember  that  during 
this  voyage  the  young  philosopher  was  constantly  seasick.  In 
after  years  this  wonderful  control  of  his  lower  self  grew  more 
and  more  complete.  He  had  an  iron  will,  but  it  was  used  in  sub 
jugating  all  that  was  unworthy  of  the  noblest  manhood  in  his 
nature.  Darwin  loved  his  home  passionately,  and  naught  but 
thirst  for  knowledge  could  have  driven  him  forth  on  his  long, 
perilous  voyage.  In  his  letters  we  catch  many  delightful 
glimpses  of  this  strong,  abiding  home  love,  as,  for  example,  the 
following :  — 

It  is  too  delightful  to  think  that  I  shall  see  the  leaves  fall  and  hear 
the  robins  sing  next  autumn  at  Shrewsbury.  My  feelings  are  those  of 
a  schoolboy  to  the  smallest  point;  I  doubt  whether  ever  boy  longed  for 
his  holidays  as  much  as  I  do  to  see  you  all  again.  I  am  at  present, 
although  nearly  half  the  world  is  between  me  and  home,  beginning  to 
arrange  what  I  shall  do,  where  I  shall  go  during  the  first  week. 

His  marriage  to  his  cousin  Emma  Wedgwood,  which  occurred 
in  January,  1839,  proved  to  be  an  exceptionally  happy  union; 
each  cherished  pure,  deep  affection  for  the  other,  and  in  each 
other's  society  they  experienced  their  rarest  happiness.  Of  their 
married  life  Francis  Darwin  savs :  — 


3Life  ot  Cbarles  2>arwfn,  17 

Of  his  married  life  I  cannot  speak,  save  in  the  briefest  manner.  In 
his  relationship  towards  my  mother,  his  tender  and  sympathetic  nature 
was  shown  in  its  most  beautiful  aspect.  In  her  presence  he  found  his 
happiness,  and  through  her,  his  life — which  might  have  been  overshad 
owed  by  gloom  —  became  one  of  content  and  quiet  gladness. 

His  deep  love  for  his  wife  and  children  was  very  marked. 
This  tireless  delver  into  the  mysteries  of  life  had  a  heart  as  ten 
der  as  the  most  sensitive  maiden.  Seldom  have  I  read  any  lines 
more  touchingly  beautiful  than  the  following,  written  when  he 
lost  his  little  ten-year-old  daughter :  — 

From  whatever  point  I  look  back  at  her,  the  main  feature  in  her  dis 
position,  which  at  once  rises  before  me,  is  her  buoyant  joyousness,  tem 
pered  by  two  other  characteristics,  namely,  her  sensitiveness,  which 
might  easily  have  been  overlooked  by  a  stranger,  and  her  strong  affec 
tion.  It  was  delightful  and  cheerful  to  behold  her.  Her  dear  face  now 
rises  before  me,  as  she  used  to  come  running  downstairs  with  a  stolen 
pinch  of  snuff  for  me,  her  whole  form  radiant  with  the  pleasure  of  giv 
ing  pleasure. 

Even  when  playing  with  her  cousins,  when  her  joyousness  almost 
passed  into  boisterousness,  a  single  glance  of  my  eye,  not  of  displeasure 
(for  I  thank  God  I  hardly  ever  cast  one  on  her),  but  of  want  of  sym 
pathy,  would  for  some  minutes  alter  her  whole  countenance.  Her 
whole  mind  was  pure  and  transparent.  One  felt  one  knew  her  thor 
oughly  and  could  trust  her.  .  .  .  She  often  used  exaggerated  lan 
guage,  and  when  I  quizzed  her  by  exaggerating  what  she  had  said, 
how  clearly  can  I  now  see  the  little  toss  of  the  head,  and  exclamation  of 
"  Oh,  papa,  what  a  shame  of  you! "  In  the  last  short  illness  her  conduct 
in  simple  truth  was  angelic.  She  never  once  complained;  never  became 
fretful;  was  ever  considerate  of  others,  and  was  thankful  in  the  most 
gentle,  pathetic  manner  for  everything  done  for  her.  When  so  exhausted 
that  she  could  hardly  speak,  she  praised  everything  that  was  given  her, 
and  said  some  tea  was  "beautifully  good."  When  I  gave  her  some 
water  she  said,  "  I  quite  thank  you,"  and  these,  I  believe,  were  the  last 
precious  words  ever  addressed  by  her  dear  lips  to  me.  We  have  lost  the 
joy  of  the  household  and  the  solace  of  our  old  age.  She  must  have 
known  how  we  loved  her.  Oh,  that  she  could  now  know  how  deeply, 
how  tenderly,  we  do  still  and  shall  ever  love  her  dear,  joyous  face! 
Blessings  on  her ! 

The  great  secret  of  Darwin's  accomplishing  such  a  vast  amount 
of  work  lay  in  the  two  words  perseverance  and  order.  He  was 
one  of  the  most  persistent  of  investigators.  The  suffering  and 
exhaustion  incident  to  his  painful  and  unremitting  illness  were 
not  considered  by  this  tireless  worker  sufficient  cause  for  rest. 
Each  day  his  apportioned  work  was  prepared  with  clocklike  regu 
larity.  Languages  were  exceedingly  difficult  for  him  to  master ; 
but  in  order  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  views  of  some  great 
German  scientific  thinkers,  he  mastered  the  language  sufficiently 
to  read  the  works,  although  he  always  pronounced  the  words  in 
English.  Another  illustration  of  this  same  spirit  of  perseverance 
is  related  in  the  following  words  by  Admiral  Stokes,  who  ac 
companied  Darwin  on  the  Beagle:  — 


18  persons,  places  an&  Ufceas* 

We  worked  together  for  several  years  at  the  same  table  in  the  poop 
cabin  of  the  Beagle  during  her  celebrated  voyage,  he  with  his  micro 
scope  and  myself  at  the  charts.  It  was  often  a  very  lively  end  of  the 
little  craft,  and  distressingly  so  to  my  old  friend,  who  suffered  greatly 
from  sea-sickness.  After,  perhaps,  an  hour's  work  he  would  say  to  me: 
"  Old  fellow,  I  must  take  the  horizontal  for  it,"  that  being  the  best  relief 
position  from  ship  motion;  a  stretch  out  on  one  side  of  the  table  for 
some  time  would  enable  him  to  resume  his  labors  for  a  while,  when  he 
had  again  to  lie  down. 

Such  are  a  few  interesting  facts  concerning  this  noble  life.  In 
a  brief  pen  picture  of  this  character  it  is  impossible  to  touch 
even  briefly  upon  the  points  of  excellence  in  a  life  so  rich  in  the 
glory  of  developed  manhood. 

The  death  of  Charles  Darwin,  which  occurred  on  the  19th  of 
April,  1882,  cast  a  gloom  over  the  whole  scientific  world.  The 
boy  who  in  1831  seemed  to  possess  so  little,  and  of  whom  his 
father  entertained  serious  apprehension  lest  he  should  turn  out  a 
worthless  sporting  character,  had  reached  the  foremost  place  in 
the  ranks  of  great  scientists,  even  in  the  golden  age  of  scientific 
research.  He  was  buried  in  Westminster  near  the  tomb  of  Kew- 
ton.  Among  his  pall-bearers  were  his  loved  co-laborers,  Wallace, 
Huxley,  Lubbock  and  Hooker.  In  closing  this  sketch  I  will 
quote  a  paragraph  from  Mr.  Allen's  graphic  summary  of  the 
personal  characteristics  of  the  great  man  who  in  life  was  as 
careless  of  his  personal  fame  as  he  was  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
science:  — 

Of  Darwin's  pure  and  exalted  moral  nature  no  Englishman  of  the 
present  generation  can  trust  himself  to  speak  with  becoming  modera 
tion.  His  love  of  truth,  his  singleness  of  heart,  his  sincerity,  his  ear 
nestness,  his  modesty,  his  candor,  his  absolute  sinking  of  self  and  self 
ishness —  these,  indeed,  are  all  conspicuous  to  every  reader  on  the  very 
face  of  every  word  he  ever  printed.  Like  his  works  themselves,  they 
must  long  outlive  him.  But  his  sympathetic  kindliness,  his  ready  gen 
erosity,  the  staunchness  of  his  friendship,  the  width  and  depth  and 
breadth  of  his  affections,  the  manner  in  which  "  he  bore  with  those  who 
blamed  him  unjustly  without  blaming  them  in  return,"  these  things 
can  never  so  well  be  known  to  any  other  generation  of  men  as  to  the 
three  generations  who  walked  the  world  with  him.  Many  even  of  those 
who  did  not  know  him  loved  him  like  a  father;  to  many  who  never  saw 
his  face  the  hope  of  winning  Charles  Darwin's  approbation  and  regard 
was  the  highest  incentive  to  thought  and  action.  Towards  younger  men, 
especially,  his  unremitting  kindness  was  always  most  noteworthy;  he 
spoke  and  wrote  to  them,  not  like  one  of  the  masters  in  Israel,  but  like 
a  fellow-worker  and  seeker  after  truth,  interested  in  their  interests, 
pleased  at  their  successes,  sympathetic  with  their  failures,  gentle  to 
their  mistakes.  .  .  .  He  had  the  sympathetic  receptivity  of  all  truly 
great  minds,  and  when  he  died  thousands  upon  thousands  who  had 
never  beheld  his  serene  features  and  his  fatherly  eyes  felt  they  had  lost, 
indeed,  a  personal  friend.  Greatness  is  not  always  joined  with  gentle 
ness;  in  Charles  Darwin's  case,  by  universal  consent  of  all  who  knew 
him,  "an  intellect  which  had  no  superior"  was  wedded  to  "a  character 
even  nobler  than  the  intellect." 


Hn  Idealistic  Dreamer  lUbo  Sincjs  in  a 
fIDinor  Ikep, 


BEYOND  and  above  the  severely  utilitarian  spirit  which 
enters  so  largely  into  life  to-day,  tiring  millions  of  brains 
with  an  all-consuming  passion  for  wealth,  rises  a  far-reaching 
and  overmastering  thought  which  is  at  once  speculative 
and  progressive.  A  great  unrest  has  taken  possession  of  the 
thinking  world.  A  profound  conviction  that  the  advance 
guird  of  civilization  is  fronting  epoch-marking  struggles  is 
daily  gaining  currency.  Especially  is  this  true  in  America, 
wh-/e  religious,  ethical,  educational,  economic  and  political 
problems  are  being  subjected  to  the  most  unsparing  critical 
investigation.  Thus  it  is  by  no  means  strange  that  idealistic 
writers  who  flourish  in  the  quiet  breathing-spells  of  nations 
find  small  favor  in  a  period  of  unrest  and  conflict  such  as 
the  present.  They  are  regarded  as  the  allies  of  convention 
alism  ;  and  this,  to  a  certain  extent,  is  doubtless  true. 

The  wonderful  gio\vth  of  sentiment  in  favor  of  the  robust 
realism  of  Ibsen.  Tolstoi,  Ho  wells  and  Garland  is  readily 
accounted  for  when  we  remember  that  this  new  thought  has 
allied  itself  to  the  moral  impulses  of  the  day.  It  is  a  part 
of  the  great  protest  of  the  hour.  Its  waves  bear  forward 
great  vital  reforms  which  are  thrilling  every  nerve  and  fibre 
of  the  best  i  _  —  ive  thought  of  the  age.  It  speaks  with 
the  authority  of  truth,  albeit  its  visage  is  sombre,  stern  and 
not  infrequently  repulsive. 

The  "  Xew  Learning."  which  in  England  rose  to  com 
manding  proportions  during  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  and  flourished  so  luxuriantly  in  the  early  decades 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  quickened  the  thought  of  the  people, 
and  allied  itself  to  reformative  impulses,  which  prepared  the 
way  for  transforming  Catholic  England  into  a  foremost  Prot 
estant  nation.  So  to-day  the  growii:_  .rent  of  million* 
of  more  or  less  thoughtful  iias  found  expression  in 
the  austere  utterances  of  such  writers  as  Tolstoi  and  Ibsen, 


:  • 


20  persons,  places  ant)  UDeas. 

—  great,  prophetic  souls,  who  dare  to  speak  the  truth  in  the 
teeth  of  conventional  intellectual  effeminacy,  whose  very 
weakness  and  vice  are  emphasized  by  its  affected  morality. 

The  new  thought  has  done  more  than  sounded  the  note 
of  reform ;  it  has  unmasked  unjust  conditions,  and  revealed 
the  parasites  preying  on  the  vitals  of  civilization.  It  has 
boldly  exhibited  that  moral  energy  and  aggressiveness  of 
spirit  which  the  coming  conflict  demands.  It  is  iconoclastic, 
a  voice  in  the  wilderness ;  but  its  brow,  if  stern,  bears  the 
majesty  of  reality.  It  does  not  palter  Avith  truth.  Thus,  in 
the  very  nature  of  the  case,  the  reformative  thought  of  the 
age  is  found  massing  under  the  banner  of  realism.  In  the 
immediate  future,  therefore,  realism  will  grow  in  popular 
favor  at  least  until  great  radical  reforms  have  been  ushered  in. 

Nevertheless,  the  human  soul  is  ever  haunted  by  the 
ideal,  even  in  moments  of  supreme  tension,  and  when  every 
fibre  is  strained  for  action  as  stern  and  uncompromising 
as  warfare  waged  in  olden  times  by  austere  puritanism. 
Dreams  of  the  past  and  visions  of  the  morrow;  love,  aspira 
tion,  hope,  the  glory  of  the  vanished  past,  the  ideal  of  the 
golden  future; — these  pictures  are  ever  present  in  the  mind; 
and  for  them  the  soul  hungers,  even  after  the  marching 
orders  have  been  given,  and  the  world's  advance  guard  is 
already  in  the  thick  of  the  combat  for  epoch-marking  vic 
tories  such  as  from  time  to  time  show  civilization's  evolu 
tionary  steps.  Thus  the  idealistic  poet,  even  though  regarded 
by  the  new  thought  as  somewhat  of  a  Philistine,  will  ever 
hold  a  seat  in  the  holiest  of  holies  of  many  human  hearts ; 
will  ever  be  loved  more  or  less  alike  by  critic  and  artisan, 
because  the  songs  sung  reflect  the  longing  of  man's  inner 
nature. 

The  writings  of  our  idealists  may,  as  the  aggressive  realist 
asserts,  act  as  moral  anaesthetics  at  great  crises  in  human 
history,  but  they  also  afford  a  certain  rest  and  food  for  even 
those  whose  sympathies  and  work  carry  them,  with  irresistible 
sway,  into  the  ranks  of  the  iconoclastic  reformers.  To  me 
nothing  is  more  restful  or  satisfying,  after  a  day  of  stern 
battle,  than  an  hour  with  the  poet  or  dreamer  who  sees  and 
understands  how  to  picture  that  which  must  ever  be  sacred 
to  the  human  heart.  We  all  more  or  less  resemble  caged 
birds  who  struggle  for  larger  freedom  and  broader  vision,  and 
at  the  present  day  the  beating  of  wings  is  particularly  active. 


Hn  Ufcealistic  IDreamer,  21 

Recently,  after  a  week  of  somewhat  exhausting  work,  not 
unmixed  with  canker-eating,  petty  aggravations,  which  in 
themselves  aie  so  insignificant,  and  yet  in  the  aggregate  are 
so  fatal  to  mental  equipoise  and  spiritual  harmony ;  a  week 
in  which  almost  every  mail  brought  letters  burdened  with 
the  stories  of  struggles,  disappointments,  and  trials,  with 
hopes  deferred  and  aspirations  unrealized  (for  an  editor  is 
much  like  a  clergyman :  to  him  are  confided  the  heartaches 
and  the  puzzling  problems  of  thousands  of  his  constituency)  ; 
a  week  in  which  the  cruel  injustice  of  prevailing  economical 
conditions  and  the  heartlessness  of  grasping  wealth  had  been 
peculiarly  strongly  impressed  by  visits  to  the  wretched  dens 
of  our  slums,  I  sought  rest  in  my  library.  Here  I  chanced 
to  take  up  Mrs.  Moulton's  charming  volumes  of  idealistic 
verses,*  and  from  them  I  derived  much  of  that  subtle, 
indefinable  pleasure  one  feels  who  finds  a  shady  retreat 
in  a  garden  of  roses.  It  is  not  alone  the  beauty  of  the 
flowers,  the  rich  perfume  floating  011  every  breeze,  or  the 
melody  of  the  birds,  but  rather  the  sum  of  nature's  prod 
igality  which  satisfies  the  wearied  soul.  So  in  these  charming 
and  unpretentious  little  fragments  of  verse,  one  feels  the 
mingled  pleasure  gained  from  pure,  deep,  poetic  powers, 
married  to  finished  art,  and  voicing  emotions  common  to  all. 
and  held  sacred  wherever  love  refines  aspiring  souls.  Few 
writers  in  this  sternly  utilitarian  age  possess  in  so  marked  a 
degree  the  rare  power  of  penetrating  the  depths  of  the  soul, 
and  calling  forth  half-forgotten  dreams  as  Mrs.  Moulton. 
Her  poems  are  simple,  chaste,  and  for  the  most  part  pitched 
in  the  minor  key.  A  noble  femininity  pervades  them,  giving 
rare  delicacy  of  thought  and  expression.  For  example,  note 
the  following  exquisite  conceit :  — 

IF   I   COULD   KEEP   HER    SO. 

Just  a  little  baby,  lying  in  my  arms, — 
Would  that  I  could  keep  you  with  your  baby  charms; 
Helpless,  clinging  fingers,  dowiw,  golden  hair, 
Where  the  sunshine  lingers,  caught  from  otherwhere; 
Blue  eyes  asking  questions,  lips  that  cannot  speak, 
Roly-poly  shoulders,  dimple  in  your  cheek. 
Dainty  little  blossom  in  a  world  of  woe, 
Thus  I  fain  would  keep  you,  for  I  love  you  so. 

*"  Swallow  Flights "  and"  In  the  Garden  of  Dreams."    Two  volumes  of  poetry  by 
Louise  Chandler  Moulton.    Published  by  Roberts  Brothers,  Boston. 


22  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

Roguish  little  damsel,  scarcely  six  years  old, — 
Feet  that  never  weary,  hair  of  deeper  gold; 
Restless,  busy  fingers,  all  the  time  at  play, 
Tongue  that  never  ceases  talking  all  the  day; 
Blue  eyes  learning  wonders  of  the  world  about, 
Here  you  come  to  tell  them,  —  what  an  eager  shout! 
Winsome  little  damsel,  all  the  neighbors  know; 
Thus  I  long  to  keep  you,  for  I  love  you  so. 

Sober  little  schoolgirl,  with  your  strap  of  books, 
And  such  grave  importance  in  your  puzzled  looks ; 
Solving  weary  problems,  poring  over  sums, 
Yet  with  tooth  for  sponge  cake  and  for  sugar  plums ; 
Reading  books  of  romance  in  your  bed  at  night, 
"Waking  up  to  study  with  the  morning  light; 
Anxious  as  to  ribbons,  deft  to  tie  a  bow, 
Full  of  contradictions,  —  I  would  keep  you  so. 

Sweet  and  thoughtful  maiden,  sitting  by  my  side, 
All  the  world's  before  you,  and  tne  world  is  wide. 
Hearts  are  there  for  winning,  hearts  are  there  to  break. 
Has  your  own,  shy  maiden,  just  begun  to  wake  ? 
Is  that  rose  of  dawning  glowing  on  your  cheek 
Telling  us  in  blushes  what  you  wrill  not  speak  ? 
Shy  and  tender  maiaen,  I  would  fain  forego 
All  the  golden  future,  just  to  keep  you  so. 


Ah!  the  listening  angels  saw  that  she  was  fair, 

Ripe  for  rare  unfolding  in  the  upper  air; 

Now  the  rose  of  dawning  turns  to  lily  white, 

And  the  close-shut  eyelids  veil  the  eyes  from  sight; 

All  the  past  I  summon  as  I  kiss  her  brow,  — 

Babe,  and  child,  and  maiden,  all  are  with  me  now. 

Though  my  heart  is  breaking,  yet  God's  love  I  know, — 

Safe  among  the  angels,  I  would  keep  her  so. 

The    intensity    of   emotion    and   power   of    antithesis    in 
thought  rather  than  words,  are  strikingly  illustrated  in 

THE   HOUSE   OF   DEATH. 

Not  a  hand  has  lifted  the  latchet 

Since  she  went  out  of  the  door. 
No  footstep  shall  cross  the  threshold, 

Since  she  can  come  in  no  more. 

There  is  rust  upon  locks  and  hinges, 

And  mould  and  blight  on  the  walls, 
And  silence  faints  in  the  chambers, 

And  darkness  waits  in  the  halls,— 


Hn  Idealistic  Breamer,  23 

Waits,  as  all  things  have  waited, 

Since  she  went,  that  day  of  spring, 
Borne  in  her  pallid  splendor, 

To  dwell  in  the  Court  of  the  King, 

"With  lilies  on  brow  and  bosom, 

With  robes  of  silken  sheen, 
And  her  wonderful  frozen  beauty 

The  lilies  and  silk  between. 

Red  roses  she  left  behind  her, 

But  they  died  long,  long  ago, — • 
'Twas  the  odorous  ghost  of  a  blossom 

That  seemed  through  the  dusk  to  glow. 

The  garments  she  left,  mock  the  shadows 

With  hints  of  womanly  grace, 
And  her  image  swims  in  the  mirror 

That  was  so  used  to  her  face. 

The  birds  make  insolent  music 

Where  the  sunshine  riots  outside; 
And  the  winds  are  merry  and  wanton 

With  the  summer's  pomp  and  pride. 

But  into  this  desolate  mansion, 

Where  Love  has  closed  the  door, 
Nor  sunshine  nor  summer  shall  enter 

Since  she  can  come  in  no  more. 

This,  to  my  mind,  is  one  of  the  strongest  poems  written  by 
Mrs.  Moulton.  The  power  of  imagination  and  the  depth  of 
grief  expressed  suggest  some  of  the  weird  verses  of  Edgar 
Allan  Poe.  Mrs.  Moulton  is  not  a  reformer ;  the  clashing  of 
battle,  the  marshalling  of  forces,  the  bugle's  call  to  action, 
appeal  not  to  her.  There  is  in  her  work  little  of  that  fervid 
thought  of  the  moral  reformer  which  leaps  forth  at  white 
heat  from  so  many  of  Whittier's  verses.  Her  tastes  lie  in 
the  idealistic  world,  where  her  earnestness  and  sincerity  are 
almost  as  marked  as  her  poetical  power  and  artistic  skill. 
Possessing  a  profoundly  religious  nature,  yet  imbued  with 
the  scientific  spirit  of  the  age,  we  find  in  her  a  woman  in  per 
fect  touch  with  the  most  spiritual  element  of  the  new  thought. 
The  old-time  fear  does  not  terrify  her,  nor  can  she  boast  of  the 
blind,  implicit  faith  which,  strange  tc  say,  rested  serenely  on 
so  many  brows  during  the  ages  when  it  was  the  popular  belief 
that  millions  of  God's  children  were  doomed  to  everlasting 
flames.  She  loves  and  questions,  and  is  not  this  the  spirit- 


^4  persons,  places  anfc  Hfceas. 

ual  state  of  thousands  of  our  best  thinkers  to-day  ?  Here  is 
a  characteristic  poem,  which  illustrates  the  attitude  of  our 
author's  mind :  — 

LONG   IS   THE   WAY. 

Long  is  the  way,  O  Lord ! 

My  steps  are  weak; 
I  listen  for  Thy  word, — 

When  wilt  Thou  speak  ? 

Must  I  still  wander  on 

'Mid  noise  and  strife ; 
Or  go  as  Thou  hast  gone, 

From  life  to  life  ? 

Below  I  give  two  sonnets  taken  from  a  cluster  of  real 
gems  in  "  Swallow  Flights  " :  — 

FIRST  LOVE. 

Time  was  you  heard  the  music  of  a  sigh, 

And  love  awoke;  and  with  it  song  was  born, — 
Song,  glad  as  young  bird's  carol  in  the  morn, 

And  tender  as  the  blue  and  brooding  sky 

When  all  the  earth  feels  Spring's  warm  witchery, 
And  with  fresh  flowers  her  bosom  doth  adorn; 
And  lovers  love,  and  cannot  love  forlorn, 

Since  love  is  of  the  gods,  and  may  not  die. 

In  after  years  may  come  some  wildering  light,— 
Some  sweet  delusion,  followed  for  a  space,— 

Such  fitful  firefiies  flash  athwart  the  night, 
But  fade  before  the  shining  of  that  face 

Which  shines  upon  you  still  in  death's  despite, 
Whose  steadfast  beauty  lights  till  death  your  days. 

ONE   DREAD. 

No  depth,  dear  love,  for  thee  is  too  profound; 

There  is  no  farthest  height  thou  mayst  not  dare, 

Nor  shall  thy  wings  fail  in  the  upper  air. 
In  funeral  robe  and  wreath  my  past  lies  bound; 
No  old-time  voice  assails  me  with  its  sound 

When  thine  I  hear;  no  former  joy  seems  fair; 

And  now  one  only  thing  could  bring  despair, 
One  grief  like  compassing  seas  my  life  surround, 
One  only  terror  in  my  way  be  met, 

One  great  eclipse  change  my  glad  day  to  night, 

One  phantom  only,  turn  from  red  to  white 
The  lips  whereon  thy  lips  have  once  been  set : 

Thou  knowest  well,  dear  Love,  what  that  must  be,. 

The  dread  of  some  dark  day  unshared  by  thee. 


En  Idealistic  H>reamer.  25 

All  of  Mrs.  Moul ton's  poems  are  pure  and  healthy  in  tone, 
although  she  is  more  often  sad  than  merry,  and  a  spirit  of 
earnest  inquiry  as  to  the  to-morrow  of  life  pervades  many  ot 
her  best  creations,  reflecting,  I  imagine,  the  heart-hunger  of 
her  nature,  and,  indeed,  in  this  respect  also  the  hunger  of  the 
age.  As  a  specimen  of  this  tendency  I  quote  the  following 
from  her  volume  "  In  a  Garden  of  Dreams."  It  is  a  beautiful 
conceit,  and  represents  a  thought  met  with  frequently  in  this 
author's  prose  as  well  as  poetry. 

IIST    A    GARDEN. 

Pale  in  the  pallid  moonlight, 

"White  as  the  rose  on  her  breast, 
She  stood  in  the  fair  rose-garden, 

With  her  shy  young  love  confest. 

The  roses  climbed  to  kiss  her, 

The  violets,  purple  and  sweet, 
Breathed  their  despair  in  the  fragrance 

That  bathed  her  beautiful  feet. 

She  stood  there,  stately  and  slender, 

Gold  hair  on  her  shoulders  shed, 
Clothed  all  in  white,  like  the  visions 

When  the  living  behold  the  dead. 

There  with  her  lover  beside  her, 

With  life  and  with  love  she  thrilled. 
What  mattered  the  world's  wide  sorrow 

To  her,  with  her  joy  fulfilled? 

Next  year,  in  the  fair  rose-garden 

He  waited  alone  and  dumb, 
If,  perchance,  from  the  silent  country. 

The  soul  of  the  dead  would  come 

To  comfort  the  living  and  loving 

With  the  ghost  of  a  lost  delight, 
And  thrill  into  quivering  welcome 

The  desolate,  brooding  night. 

Till  softly  a  wind  in  the  distance 

Began  to  blow  and  blow; 
The  moon  bent  nearer  and  nearer. 

And  solemn,  and  sweet,  and  slow 

Came  a  wonderful  rapture  of  music 

That  turned  to  her  voice  at  last; 
Then  a  cold,  soft  touch  on  his  forehead 

Like  the  breath  of  the  wind  that  passed; 


•20  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

Like  the  breath  of  the  wind  she  touched  him. 

Thin  was  the  voice,  and  cold, 
And  something,  that  seemed  like  a  shadow, 

Slipped  through  his  feverish  hold. 

But  the  voice  had  said,  "  I  love  you 

With  my  first  love  and  my  last  ;  " 
Then  again  that  wonderful  music, 

And  he  knew  that  her  soul  had  passed. 

It  is  this  anxious  thought,  this  overmastering  desire  to 
know  what  lies  beyond  the  vale,  springing  from  the  union  of 
a  strongly  religious  nature  with  a  mind  trained  in  the  school 
of  modern  scientific  inquiry,  which  gives  a  certain  sombre 
cast  to  many  of  her  poems.  The  interrogation  point  is  often 
felt  if  not  seen.  This  spirit,  however,  is  symptomatic  of  our 
ao"e,  for  we  are  in  a  period  of  religious  transition.  The  mists 
which  were  a  pillar  of  fire  to  our  fathers  are  dissolving  before 
the  purpling  dawn,  of  a  juster  and  nobler  day  than  humanity 
ha3  ever  known.  But  as  yet  the  morning  has  not  advanced 
far  enough  to  give  the  people  a  clear  vision  of  the  path 
way  along  which,  with  glad,  exultant  song,  will  journey  the 
children  of  to-morrow.  At  each  new  step  in  the  world's 
progress,  humanity  is  depressed  with  the  same  all-pervading 
doubt,  the  same  uncertainty  and  fear.  This  is  no  less  true 
to-day  than  it  has  been  in  the  past.  History  is  replete  with 
striking  illustrations  of  society  convulsed  with  the  ague  of 
fear,  as  from  time  to  time  great  truths  have  been  discovered 
which  ran  counter  to  conservative  thought ;  and  it  is  fair 
to  suppose  that  succeeding  generations,  viewing  our  present 
conflict,  will  marvel  that  the  lifeless  shell  of  the  old  held  in 
thrall  a  single  aspiring  soul,  or  that  we  walked  so  lamely  in 
the  glorious  light  of  the  new  day,  even  as  we  wonder  how  a 
world  could  be  so  blind  as  to  refuse  so  long  the  splendid 
visions  of  creation  given  by  Copernicus  and  other  torch 
bearers  of  truth. 


1)  Ja«.  A.  Home,  author   of   "  Shoro   Arro- 
and  creator  of  character  of  Uncle  Nat. 

(3)  The  quarrel  in  the  lighthouse.    Act  III, 


C2}  Undo  Xat  and  Helen.  "  ";Xo\v,  no\v,  that 
ain't  right."     Art  1 

(4)   Uncle  Xat  in  last  act. 


or  fllMrror,  or  tbc  2Mflerence  Between 
artificiality  an£>  IDeritism  on  tbe  Stage. 


i. 

THE  theatre  of  recent  years  has  been  a  mask  rather  than  a 
mirror;  that  is  to  say,  it  has  been  afflicted  with  the  gangrene 
of  artificiality.  At  intervals  some  individual  of  transcen 
dent  genius  has  aroused  the  deeper  feelings  of  the  auditors  by 
the  magic  of  his  power;  but  for  the  most  part  the  grave  or 
gay  emotions  have  vanished  from  the  brain  of  the  listener 
before  the  theatre  door  has  been  reached.  In  other  words, 
only  the  surface  has  been  ruffled;  the  almost  unfathomable 
depths  of  the  soul  have  not  been  stirred.  The  pictures  and 
voicings  have  lacked  the  true  ring  of  life's  verities  in  any 
thing  like  a  full  or  vital  way.  They  have  borne  to  the  real 
much  the  relationship  of  the  speaking  doll  to  the  aspiration- 
illumined  soul;  and  this  is  one  of  the  chief  reasons  why  the 
theatre  has  failed  to  wield  a  more  decisive  influence  upon 
public  opinion.  Only  that  which  is  true,  only  that  which  is 
real,  or,  if  ideal,  is  in  perfect  alignment  with  the  eternal 
verities  as  found  in  life,  can  produce  a  lasting  impression  on 
the  deeper  emotions  of  humanity. 

It  is  only  fair  to  observe,  however,  that  the  drama  has  not 
been  the  only  sufferer  from  artificiality.  Literature,  religion 
and  art  have  come  under  the  same  baleful  influence.  The  in 
tellectual  era  which  dawned  during  that  period  of  marvellous 
mental  activity  and  growth  we  call  the  Renaissance,  owed 
as  much  to  the  shattering  of  ecclesiasticism  and  tradition 
alism  which  had  long  enslaved  the  brain  of  western  Europe, 
as  it  did  to  the  broader  thoughts  derived  from  Grecian  art 
and  literature  unfolded  after  the  siege  of  Constantinople. 

The  new  life  and  wealth  of  thought,  imagination  and 
expression,  which  characterized  the  rise  of  Romanticism,  led 
by  Victor  Hugo  in  the  present  century,  and  which  enriched 


persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

in  such  a  marked  degree  the  literature  of  France,  was 
valuable  and  vital  in  so  far  as  it  was  a  protest  against  the 
bondage  of  ancient  thought  and  hoary  traditionalism  which 
produced  successive  generations  of  imitators,  and  which 
prescribed  arbitary  rules  as  ultimates  in  art. 

The  power  of  the  work  of  our  modern  school  of  veritists 
or  realists  lies  in  its  fidelity  to  life  as  it  is ;  and  though  I  do 
not  think  that  Ibsen,  Tolstoi,  Ho  we  11s,  or  Garland  have 
ascended  the  mountain  quite  far  enough  to  sweep  the  whole 
horizon,  they  are  doing  magnificent  work,  and  work  which 
is  vital  because  it  is  true.* 

That  which  fails  to  comprehend  the  eternal  verities  which 
make  for  civilization  will  fail  to  elevate  or  in  any  large  way 
ennoble  humanity  —  it  matters  not  whether  it  be  in  the 
drama,  in  popular  education,  in  art,  in  literature  or  in  religion. 
That  which  is  artificial,  or  if  true  is  still  encased  in  the 
mummy  clothes  of  traditionalism,  will  fail  to  touch  the  well- 
springs  of  life. 

Perhaps  nowhere  has  the  artificiality  bred  of  imitation 
been  more  pronounced  than  in  the  drama.  The  free  lance 
in  theology,  in  literature,  and  art  has  ever  had  a  far  easier 
patli  to  tread  than  the  dramatists  who  disregarded  the  hard 
and  fast  traditionalism  of  the  stage.  The  great  expense 
incident  to  staging  a  play  properly;  the  timidity  of  managers, 
who  are,  as  a  rule,  wedded  to  conservatism;  the  critics,  whose 
education  has  been  entirely  along  the  lines  of  the  past,  and 
who,  as  a  rule,  are  very  jealous  for  the  old  traditions;  and 
lastly  a  public  sentiment,  which,  when  discriminating,  is 
usually  prejudiced  in  the  direction  of  conventionalism,  render 

*  A  friend  of  mine  who  heard  a  gifted  lady  read  Ibsen's  "  Brand  "  some  time  since, 
when  the  reading  was  finished,  said  :  "1  felt  like  crying  out,  Stop!  The  piece  pierced 
my  very  soul.  It  was  so  painfully  terrible.  Why?  'Because  Ibsen's  characters  are  not 
puppets,  and  the  music  of  real  human  woe  rang  through  this  master  poem." 

I  saw,  some  time  ago,  a  letter  called  forth  from  a  thoughtful  person  who  had  read 
Mr.  Garland's  "  Prairie  Heroine  "  in  THE  AKEXA.  This  gentleman  said  :  "  I  read  this 
sketch  more  than  a  week  ago,  and  have  been  miserable  ever  since.  I  knew  such  things 
existed,  but  I  never  felt  what  it  meant  before."  That  is  exactly  what  true  work  does. 
It  compels  the  reader  to  feel  as  well  as  to  accept  in  an  intellectual  way.  Now  when  our 
veritists  appreciate  that  there  is  something  needful  beyond  a  statement  of  bald  facts, 
we  shall  have  the  real  with  all  its  vivid  power,  reinforced  and  vitalized  by  realistic  or 
truthful  idealism.  The  time  has  passed  when  the  builder  is  satisfied  to  lay  the  brick 
and  mortar  without  holding  the  image  of  the  splendid  structure  in  his  brain,  as  is  seen 
by  the  hungry  way  in  which  the  artisans  gaze  on  the  architect's  plate  of  the  finished 
edifice.  So  the  human  soul  to-day  is  not  content  with  the  truth  as  it  is;  the  vivid  por 
trayal  of  the  truth  as  it  shall  be  must  be  given.  This  contains  an  inspiration  no  less 
marked  than  the  power  of  mere  portrayal  of  facts  in  a  vivid  way.  The  man  is  more 
than  matter;  beyond  the  flesh  anu  blood  which  remain  when  death  supervenes,  we 
have  that  something  illusive  but  very  real,  which  thinks,  aspires,  hopes  and  loves; 
true  ideality  bears  much  the  same  relation  to  realism  that  the  brain  or  soul  does  to  the 
body.  The 'trouble  with  the  past  has  been  that  either  the  idealism  given  was  false,  or 
was  so  divorced  from  its  proper  relation  to  the  real  as  to  act  as  an  anaesthetic  on  the 
people,  and  from  this  pseudo-idealism,  religion,  literature  and  the  drama  suffered. 


/Ifcasfe  or  /llMrror,  29 

it  well-nigh  impossible  to  present  a  dramatic  work  which  is 
strongly  unconventional.  It  is  therefore  far  more  than  a 
personal  triumph  when  a  dramatist  succeeds  in  spite  of  these 
obstacles.  Especially  is  this  the  case  when  the  produc 
tion  is  artistic  throughout;  when  it  is  free  from  all  taint  of 
sensualism,  or  of  all  suggestions  of  an  unhealthy  character; 
when  the  coarseness  of  the  variety  stage  and  the  high  sound 
ing  mock  heroics  for  which  the  galleries  are  supposed  to 
yearn,  are  alike  absent;  and  finally,  when  the  subtle  atmos 
phere  of  the  play  is  so  charged  with  truth  that,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  every  auditor  receives  a  moral  uplift  when 
witnessing  the  drama.  We  are  only  beginning  to  study 
psychology  in  a  scientific  way,  while  for  most  investigators 
the  psychic  realm  is  as  yet  an  undiscovered  country.  Still 
we  are  learning  day  by  day  to  appreciate  more  and  more  the 
subtle  power  of  thought,  and  to  understand  that  the  sub-con 
scious  mind  often  takes  cognizance  of  the  soul  of  that  with 
which  we  come  in  contact  when  this  vital  essence  entirely 
escapes  our  more  blunted  conscious  perceptions.  We  are 
beginning  to  learn  that  every  book,  every  sermon,  every 
drama,  indeed  every  thought,  which  comes  before  our  brain 
in  any  real  or  vital  AA^ay,  elevates  or  lowers  our  moral  being. 
Many  conventional  dramas,  in  which  virtue  is  rewarded  and 
vice  punished,  and  which  abound  in  high-sounding  moral 
platitudes,  are  distinctly  immoral  in  their  atmosphere;  for 
when  not  artificial  and  untrue,  they  are  vicious  in  situation 
or  suggestion. 

II. 

A  play  reflecting  nature  in  a  real  and  wholesome  manner 
was  enacted  during  the  most  of  the  past  winter.  I  refer 
to  Mr.  James  A.  Herne's  New  England  comedy-drama, 
"  Shore  Acres,"  which  recently  won  such  a  signal  success  in 
Boston.  The  cordial  reception  given  this  play  calls  for  more 
than  a  passing  notice,  because  its  successful  presentation  was 
a  victory  of  far-reaching  significance  for  the  drama.  It 
demonstrated  the  falsity  of  certain  claims  which  have  long 
fettered  dramatic  progress  and  prevented  the  stage  from 
wielding  a  decisively  educational  influence  which  might 
have  been  exerted, had  the  drama  been  loyal  to  truth  rather 
than  the  slave  of  traditionalism. 

"  Shore  Acres  "  was  placed  upon  the  stage  of  the  Boston 


30  persons,  places  aufc  Ufceas. 

Museum  the  middle  of  last  February,  and  scored  an  instan 
taneous  and  unqualified  success.  Its  popularity,  however, 
steadily  grew  as  the  season  advanced.  From  the  middle 
of  February  to  the  end  of  the  dramatic  season  it  was 
enacted  before  full  houses.  For  months,  immense  audiences 
laughed  and  wept  over-  this  truthful  reflection  of  humble 
New  England  life,  with  its  hppes  and  fears,  its  aspirations  and 
prejudices,  its  love  and  jealousies,  its  sunny  surface  joy  and 
its  deep,  flowing  content.  For  one  hundred  and  thirteen 
performances  the  old  historic  theatre  was  thronged  by  the 
most  thoughtful  and  sincere  people  of  Boston  ;  and  what 
was  peculiarly  significant,  the  closing  performances,  enacted 
the  last  week  in  May,  when  actors  usually  play  to  empty 
benches,  were  given  before  crowded  houses. 

Had  the  play  been  simply  a  clever  conventional  drama, 
the  success  would  merely  have  been  a  marked  tribute  to  the 
genius  and  ability  of  Mr.  Herne,  in  his  double  role  of  dram 
atist  and  actor ;  but  the  far  wider  significance  of  the  triumph 
will  be  readily  appreciated  when  we  remember  that  "  Shore 
Acres "  is  a  radically  unconventional  drama,  which  boldly 
ignores  many  of  the  most  cherished  traditions  of  the  con 
ventional  stage,  and  radiates  an  atmosphere  charged  with 
truth  and  rendered  luminous,  not  by  the  fire-fly  glow  of 
empty  words,  but  by  the  divine  radiance  of  noble  deeds  shin 
ing  through  simple,  humble  lives  ;  and,  moreover,  it  is  a 
play  without  a  plot  or  a  villain,  dealing  entirely  with  the 
lowly  ones  of  earth  —  merely  a  section,  as  it  were,  taken 
from  the  every-day  life  of  some  poor  farmers  and  fisheimen 
living  on  the  coast  of  Maine. 

It  has  been  claimed  that  no  play  w'hich  dealt  with 
humble  life,  which  ignored  plot  and  excluded  the  vulgarities 
of  the  variety  stage  and  the  cheap  jokes  and  claptrap  of 
the  minstrel  and  melodrama  could  succeed.  The  success  of 
"  Shore  Acres  "  completely  refutes  this  calumny  against  a 
theatre-going  public;  while  those  who  have  persistently 
asserted  that  in  order  to  satisfy  public  taste,  plotless  and 
villainless  dramas  which  make  no  illegitimate  bids  for  the 
applause  of  the  gallery,  must  be  relieved  by  gorgeous  stage 
setting  and  fashionable  dressing  in  which  rich  gowns  cut 
perilously  low  in  front,  and  ridiculously  long  behind,  make 
up  for  what  is  wanting  in  other  artificial  features,  have  been 
shown  that  beyond  the  tricks  of  conventionalism,  beyond  the 


/Ifcasfc  or  /IDirror.  3i 

devices  of  artificiality,  rises  ART,  which,  when  true,  appeals  to 
something  deeper  and  finer  than  the  surface  whims  of  human 
ity,  and  which,  even  when  she  concerns  herself  with  the 
humblest  life,  provided  she  is  true  in  her  delineations,  proves 
absorbingly  fascinating  to  all  those  in  whom  the  current  of 
human  emotions  Hows  in  tha  deep  nature-ordained  channels, 
instead  of  over  the  shallow  crust  of  conventionality. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  "  Shore  Acres  "  would  please 
the  froth  or  the  dregs  of  society,  for  the  denizens  of  these 
strata,  through  education,  environment  and  the  atmosphere  of 
life,  become  unnatural;  they  live  behind  a  mask,  and  to  them 
the  mask  is  more  engaging  than  the  mirror.  The  erotic 
atmosphere  of  a  fashionable  society  drama,  heavy  with  arti 
ficial  perfumes  and  shadowing  forth  luxurious  ease,  intrigue, 
and  the  fever  of  a  superficial  existence;  representing  puppets 
of  passion,  connoisseurs  of  wines-,  and  ornamented  by  inane 
scions  of  foreign  aristocracies,  best  satisfies  the  butterflies  of 
fashion ;  while  plays  dealing  with  plot  and  passion,  in 
which  villains  are  invincible  until  the  final  act  is  reached, 
and  where  the  young  are  nightly  shown  how  safes  are  blown 
open  by  professional  burglars,  and  various  other  crimes  are 
committed  with  ease  and  dexterity,  appeal  to  another  class 
whose  point  of  view  renders  life's  true  visage  as  unreal  as  it 
is  to  the  flippant  children  of  fashion's  careless  world.  To 
the  dwellers  in  both  of  these  social  strata  "  Shore  Acres  " 
failed  to  appeal ;  while  from  the  earnest,f eeling  multitude  who 
ever  recognize  the  voice  of  truth  whenever  spoken,  and  who 
appreciate  true  art  because  their  souls  are  sufficiently  near 
the  pulsating  breast  of  nature  to  recognize  the  face  of  truth, 
it  found  a  ready  welcome. 

I  have  known  numbers  of  persons,  artists,  physicians  and 
scholars,  who  attended  this  play  from  six  to  eight  times, 
experiencing  the  keenest  pleasure  at  each  performance;  such 
is  the  virility  of  truth  that  one  does  not  tire  when  looking 
into  her  face. 

"Shore  Acres"  opens  in  an  idyllic  manner.*  It  is  haying 
time  in  Maine ;  the  flowers  are  blooming  around  the  old 

*  The  realistic  atmosphere  of  the  play  is  indicated  by  an  incident  which  occurred 
one  night  when  I  was  witnessing  the  performance.  Behind  me  sat  a  lady  and  gentle 
man  who  appeared  to  be  greatly  interested  in  the  production  ;  the  gentleman,  however, 
seemed  much  worried  because,  as  he  observed  a  number  of  times,  he  could  not  recol 
lect  any  "  Berry  lighthouse"  along  that  shore.  To  each  of  them,  as  apparently  to  the 
vast  audience,  it  was  hisi-ory  rather  than  fiction  which  was  being  unfolded.  Many 
illustrations  of  a  similar  character  might  be  cited  to  emphasize  the  peculiar  influence 
which  this  play  exerted  in  taking  hold  of  the  real  self  of  the  auditor. 


32  persons,  places  anfc 

homestead  of  the  Berry  brothers,  and  in  the  distance  we  see 
the  ocean,  and  the  deep  blue  sky  flecked  with  clouds.  At 
some  distance,  on  a  reef  which  juts  into  the  ocean,  stands  the 
lighthouse,  which  is  later  the  scene  of  a  terrible  struggle 
between  the  brothers.  In  this  first  act  the  children  making 
their  mud  pies  are  deliciously  natural,  as  is  also  Uncle  Nat 
when  he  gives  them  a  wheelbarrow  ride.  Here  we  also  see 
the  land  boomer  enter  this  idyllic  garden,  and  poison  the 
mind  of  the  owner  of  the  farm  by  filling  it  with  wild  dreams 
of  wealth  to  be  acquired  without  the  earning.  We  note  the 
curse  of  American  life  —  speculation  —  with  its  seductive 
allurements, fastening  itself  upon  Martin  Berry,  and  hence 
forth  his  peace  of  mind  is  gone.  The  scene  between  the 
lovers  in  this  act  is  also  very  charming,  and  seldom  has  any 
thing  appeared  befoie  the  footlights  so  true  to  life  as  the 
little  pleasantry  indulged  in  by  old  Joel  Gates  and  the  hired 
men  from  the  hayfield.  It  is  a  glint  of  sunshine  before  a 
shadow  which  is  to  follow.  This  banter  and  sport,  though 
grim  and  savage,  is  one  of  those  natural  outgushings  of  farm 
life  which  relieve  the  monotony  of  existence.  The  great 
scene  of  this  act  is  reached  after  the  hands  enter  the  house 
for  dinner,  and  Martin,  the  younger  brother,  informs  Uncle 
Nat  of  his  wish  to  cut  up  the  farm  for  town  lots,  because  he 
is  sure  a  boom  is  coming.  Here  it  is  that  we  begin  to  see 
the  tremendous  strength  of  Mr.  Herne  as  an  actor.  There  is 
nothing  loud,  nothing  boisterous,  about  the  words  and  actions 
of  Uncle  Nat.  On  the  contrary,  everything  is  exactly  the 
reverse ;  but  his  Avonderful  recital  of  their  father's  drown 
ing,  of  their  mother's  year  of  waiting,  of  her  death,  and  the 
grave  "out  yander  on  the  knoll,"  reveals  consummate  art, 
and  the  reserve  power  which  fascinates  the  auditor  and  wins 
every  true  heart.  But  even  here  Mr.  Herne  does  not  reach 
the  climax  of  his  portrayal ;  it  is  not  until  Martin  Berry  dis 
appears  within  the  house,  and  Uncle  Nat  stands  silently 
twisting  a  cord,  that  one  realizes  how  much,  to  use  a  paradox, 
a  real  artist  may  say  when  he  is  silent.  During  these  mo 
ments  Uncle  Nat's  face  is  a  study  for  a  psychologist;  while 
the  emotions  depicted  call  for  no  words,  but  tug  at  the  heait- 
strings  of  strong-framed  men  no  less  than  sympathetic 
women. 

The  second  scene  represents  the  interior  of  the  house,  and 
the  moving  panorama  is  delightfully  natural;  but  it  is  not 


or  /llMrror.  33 

until  we  reach  the  closing  passages  of  this  act  that  comedy 
gives  place  to  the  full  play  of  the  strongest  emotions  known 
to  the  human  heart.  As  in  life  the  gay  and  grave  tread 
continually  upon  each  other's  heels,  so  in  this  drama  we 
laugh  and  cry  in  almost  the  same  breath.  There  is  a  wonder 
ful  mental  study  in  the  final  scene  of  the  second  act,  when 
Uncle  Nat,  with  unconscious  skill,  impresses  his  thoughts  and 
wishes  on  the  tense  brain  of  his  niece,  urging  in  a  manner  so 
natural  that  the  art  conceals  the  art,  for  all  save  psycholo 
gists  who  have  made  unconscious  hypnotic  suggestion  a 
study,  and  thus  are  enabled  to  appreciate  the  scientific  accu 
racy  of  Mr.  Herne's  work  in  this  remarkable  portrayal. 

The  third  scene  takes  place  in  the  lighthouse,  and  at  the 
close,  through  realistic  stage  effect,  gives  a  vivid  picture  of 
an  ocean  in  a  storm.  This  scene  has  been  criticised  by  some 
who  imagine  that  simplicity  excludes  intensity,  and  who, 
because  the  ocean  is  usually  calm,  would  deny  the  legitimacy 
of  introducing  the  savage  awfulness  of  the  tempest  without 
and  within.  The  scene  in  the  lighthouse  is  as  true  as  any 
which  precede  or  follow  it.  It  pictures  a  supreme  and  terri 
ble  moment  in  life,  and  we  catch  a  vivid  glimpse  of  the  incar 
nate  god  grappling  with  the  aroused  savagery  of  the  animal 
—  unselfish  love  battling  with  a  nature  rendered  insanely 
blind  through  passion  —  a  scene  which  typifies  the  struggle 
of  the  ages.  The  student  of  present-day  events  sees  in  it 
a  miniature  representation  of  the  conflict  now  raging,  upon 
whose  issue  hangs  the  civilization  of  the  morrow.  That  no 
such  idea  as  this  entered  the  brain  of  the  dramatist,  is  highly 
probable;  for  a  genius  continually  reflects  colossal  thought 
upon  his  canvas,  and  deals  with  types  without  knowing  the 
deeper  significance  of  his  own  creation.  There  is  nothing 
in  this  great  act  which  is  untrue  or  overdrawn.  It  is  the 
embodiment  of  high  art;  and  representing,  as  it  does,  the 
emotional  climax  in  the  drama,  it  is  not  only  perfectly  legiti 
mate,  but  without  some  such  strong  exhibition  of  human 
emotion  the  play  would  have  been  artistically  incomplete. 

Great,  however,  as  are  the  preceding  scenes,  for  me,  the 
charm  of  the  closing  act  eclipses  all  which  has  preceded  it ; 
for  here  the  saint  always  visible  in  Uncle  Nat  shines  out  so 
impressively  that  each  auditor  catches  a  glimpse  of  that  love 
which  some  day  will  redeem  the  world.  Then,  too,  in  this 
last  scene  the  artist's  touch  is  everywhere  visible. 


34  persons,  places  anfc 

It  is  Christmas  Eve,  the  children  are  undressed,  and  the 
stockings  are  hung  up.  Bob  is  not  the  only  boy  who  has 
wished  to  hang  up  his  trousers  instead  of  his  stocking, 
under  the  vain  delusion  that  quantity  measures  the  pleasure 
of  life  ;  and  Millie  is  not  the  first  girl  who  has  wished  she 
wore  pants.  The  radiant  eyes,  the  innocent  prattle  of  the 
expectant  children;  Millie's  indignation  at  her  older  brother's 
scepticism  in  regard  to  the  existence  of  Santa  Glaus  ;  the 
sombre  shadow  cast  by  the  sober,  silent,  and  almost  broken 
hearted  Martin;  the  absorption  of  little  Nat  and  his  mother 
in  the  exciting  novel ;  then  the  home-coming  of  the  loved 
ones,  the  reconciliation  and  the  saving  of  the  farm,  the 
entrance  of  Joel  Gates,  and  pathetic  picture  of  little  Mandy 
—  all  these  and  other  scenes  in  this  quickty  moving  pano 
rama  reveal  behind  the  play  a  great  artist  and  a  true  man. 
It  is  not,  however,  until  one  by  one  the  actors  retire,  leaving 
Uncle  Nat  alone  in  the  great  farm  kitchen,  that  one  fully 
appreciates  the  courage  of  Mr.  Herne,  in  throwing  to  the 
Avinds  the  traditions  of  the  stage.  Here,  for  ten  minutes 
before  the  curtain  drops,  not  a  word  is  spoken.  Uncle  Nat 
is  alone.  He  seats  himself,  and  the  auditors,  in  rapt  atten 
tion,  follow  the  train  of  thought,  as  his  face  reflects  emotions 
which  swell  in  his  soul.  The  smile  of  the  dear  old  face  is 
something  never  to  be  forgotten.  During  these  moments 
the  audience  becomes  thoroughly  fascinated  by  the  wonder 
ful  play  of  human  emotions  ;  and  when  at  length  he  rises, 
the  spectators,  as  one  person,  regard  him  with  breathless 
interest,  as  he  locks  the  doors,  removes  the  teapot,  places  the 
kettle  on  the  back  of  the  stove,  raises  the  lid,  and  with  candle 
in  hand  ascends  the  old  stairway  as  the  clock  strikes  the 
midnight  hour. 

This  was  the  first  dramatic  performance  I  remember 
witnessing,  in  which  the  closing  minutes  of  the  play  were 
not  marred  by  vexatious  noises  incident  to  the  departure  of 
auditors;  but  during  the  four  times  I  saw  "  Shore  Acres" 
performed,  the  audience  seemed  rapt  until  Uncle  Nat  dis 
appeared.  It  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  illustrations 
of  the  unconscious  tribute  paid  by  the  people  to  the  genius 
of  the  artist  and  his  fidelity  to  truth  that  I  have  ever  seen, 
and  to  students  of  psychology  it  Avas  an  interesting  and  valu 
able  study. 


or  /llMrror.  35 


ill. 

And  now  a  word  in  regard  to  the  great  creation  of  Uncle 
Nathaniel.  It  has  been  urged  by  some  zealous  defenders  of 
realism,  that  in  this  masterpiece  Mr.  Herne  has  gone  beyond 
the  limits  of  realism  —  and  if  by  this  the  critics  mean  that  he 
has  idealized  to  a  certain  degree  the  grand  old  man  whose 
every  smile  reflects  the  divine  ego  which  crouches,  cowers  or 
rules  in  the  brain  of  every  human  being,  the  observation  is 
just;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  to  infer  that  the 
dramatist  and  artist  has  exceeded  the  bounds  of  the  legit 
imate  by  creating  an  impossible  man,  or  a  life  impossible 
in  that  station  and  with  that  environment,  or  that  the 
character  is  not  in  perfect  alignment  with  the  real,  the 
stricture  is  untrue.  There  is  110  character  in  "  Shore  Acres  " 
truer  to  life  than  this  noble-hearted  old  New  England  light- 
keeper,  but  he  is  colossal.  I  remember  admiring  the  physical 
perfection  of  the  late  Phillips  Brooks  some  ten  years  ago. 
He  then  seemed  an  almost  perfect  type  of  well-developed 
manhood,  so  far  as  his  bodily  form  was  concerned;  but  stand 
ing  by  an  ordinary  man  his  great  proportions  Avere  at  once 
noticeable.  Now  this  is  precisely  what  we  find  in  the 
ethical  portrayal  in  Uncle  Nat.  He  is  very  real,  perfectly 
natural,  profoundly  true;  but  he  is  colossal,  revealing  most 
vividly  the  possible  saint  in  every  man. 

The  popular  or  conventional  pseudo-idealism  of  the  past 
has  been  essentially  immoral  because  it  has  been  untrue, 
strained  and  unnatural;  or  when  possible  it  has  been  so 
divorced  from  the  real  as  to  carry  little  vital  truth  to  the 
brain  of  those  to  whom  it  has  appealed.  Realistic  idealism,. 
when  hand  in  hand  with  veritism,  gives  to  life  a  moral  up 
lift,  subtle  and  illusive  in  character,  but  most  potential  for 
lasting  good.  It  is  the  soul  of  progress  —  the  inspiration  of 
noble  endeavor  —  the  touch  which  floods  the  present  with 
light,  and  reveals  the  next  upward  step. 

Realism  is  vitally  important;  she  depicts  life  as  it  is  to 
day;  she  is  true,  impartial,  and  mercilessly  candid.  But  vital 
idealism  complements  realism;  standing  by  her  side,  she  radi 
ates  a  light  which  is  charged  with  vitality  because  it  is 
divine  ;  she  is  profoundly  real  and  true  ;  her  every  act  and 
deed  reflects  more  of  the  real  soul  than  we  have  been  accus 
tomed  to  see  ;  if  her  face  is  luminous  it  is  because  the  saint, 


36  persons,  places  anb  Hfceas* 

possible  in  every  one,  is  here  triumphant.  The  relation 
between  realism  and  vital  idealism  in  the  utilitarian  economy 
may  be  compared  to  two  influences  acting  upon  the  inmates 
of  a  building  which  is  on  fire.  Realism  sounds  the  alarm, 
she  describes  the  true  condition;  while  idealism  leads  the 
awakened  victims  from  a  death-trap  to  a  place  of  safety. 

I  repeat,  that  in  Uncle  Nat  we  see  exemplified  the  possible 
saint  in  every  life ;  he  is  the  embodiment  of  human  love. 
The  affection  for  the  old  home,  owing  to  its  associations;  the 
tenderness  shown  for  the  memory  of  father  and  mother ;  the 
love  for  his  younger  brother,  which  led  him  to  make  the 
supreme  sacrifice  of  life,  that  his  brother  might  be  happy; 
the  wealth  of  affection  for  the  children,  which  is  in  essence 
parental  love,  and  the  broad,  tolerant  spirit  evinced  toward 
the  socially  ostracized  young  doctor  —  these  are  all  phases  of 
the  one  supreme  passion  which  illumines  Avithout  dazzling, 
which  warms  but  never  scorches.  In  the  degree  in  which 
this  full-orbed  love  is  revealed,  we  gauge  man's  progress  from 
the  animal  to  the  divine.  In  Uncle  Nathaniel,  from  his  first 
entrance  to  the  drop  of  the  curtain,  there  is  nothing  strained 
or  unnatural.  Eveiy  act,  every  utterance,  is  true  to  the  finer 
impulses  of  life;  and  every  manifestation  of  the  triumph  of 
love  over  selfishness  has  found  its  counterpart  in  millions 
of  lives.  Not  that  all  these  manifestations  are  usually  seen 
in  a  single  individual,  for,  as  I  have .  observed,  this  creation 
is  colossal ;  but  it  is  also  true,  and  being  true,  it  carries 
with  it  a  vital  and  uplifting  inspiration. 


poet  of  tbc  people. 


IN  this  chapter  I  wish  to  give  a  brief  outline  of  the  life 
and  work  of  the  poet,  composer,  and  singer,  James  G.  Clark, 
whose  fine  lyrical  and  reformative  verses  have  been  an  inspira 
tion  to  thousands  of  lives. 

Mr.  Clark  was  born  in  Constantia,  N".  Y.,  in  1830.  His 
father  was  a  man  of  influence  in  his  community,  being  recognized 
as  intelligent  and  honorable,  and  possessing  that  cool,  dispassion 
ate  judgment  which  always  commands  respect.  The  mother  gave 
to  her  son  his  poetical  gift  and  his  intense  love  for  humanity, 
his  all-absorbing  devotion  to  justice  and  liberty,  and  a  nature  at 
once  refined  yet  brave.  When  but  three  years  old,  the  little 
poet  had  learned  from  his  mother  "  The  Star  of  Bethlehem," 
sung  to  the  air  of  "  Bonny  Doon,"  and  could  sing  the  entire  piece 
without  missing  a  word  or  note.  When  twenty-one  years  of  age 
he  was  well  known  in  his  community  as  a  concert  singer  of  rare 
ability.  At  this  time  Mr.  Clark  attracted  the  attention  of  Mr. 
Ossian  E.  Dodge,  who,  in  addition  to  publishing  a  literary  jour 
nal  in  Boston,  had  under  his  management  the  most  popular  con 
cert  quartette  in  New  England.  Mr.  Dodge  was  a  man  of  quick 
perception  ;  he  readily  saw  that  the  young  poet  and  singer  would 
prove  a  valuable  acquisition  to  his  already  famous  troupe,  and 
promptly  appointed  him  musical  composer1'  for  his  company. 
Into  this  work  Mr.  Clark  threw  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  com 
posing  such  universally  popular  songs  as  "  The  Old  Mountain 
Tree,"  "  The  Rover's  Grave,"  "Meet  Me  by  the  Running  Brook," 
and  "  The  Rock  of  Liberty."  "  The  Old  Mountain  Tree  "  was 
for  some  time  a  reigning  favorite  through  the  land,  it  being  sung 
for  months  in  theatres  and  concerts.  At  the  Boston  Museum, 
then  the  leading  theatre  of  Boston,  it  was  no  unusual  thing  for 
it  to  be  called  for  as  many  as  three  times  in  a  single  evening. 

One  day  during  this  period  of  popularity,  his  mother,  who  was  a 
very  religious  woman,  said  to  him,  "  James,  why  cannot  you 
write  a  hymn  ? "  He  loved  his  mother  devotedly.  There  was 
between  them  more  than  the  strong  ties  of  mother  and  son.  She 
had  fostered  and  encouraged  his  every  poetical  and  musical  aspi 
ration,  and  it  was  his  most  earnest  desire  to  gratify  her  wish,  but 

37 


38  persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas, 

thought  along  this  line  came  slowly,  and  almost  a  year  elapsed 
before  the  young  man  placed  a  pencilled  copy  of  his  hymn, 
"  The  Evergreen  Mountains  of  Life,"  in  his  mother's  hand.  She 
read  it  through  silently,  too  much  overcome  to  speak,  while  great 
tears  coursed  down  her  wrinkled  cheeks.  At  this  period  he 
composed  several  songs  and  hymns  which  have  been  univer 
sally  popular,  such  as  "  Where  the  Hoses  Never  Wither," 
"  The  Beautiful  Hills,"  and  «  The  Isles  of  the  By  and  By."  Of 
these  poems  Dr.  A.  P.  Miller'  of  San  Francisco,  himself  a  poet 
of  more  than  ordinary  power  and  an  admirable  critic,  writes  : 
"  These  songs  have  for  thirty  years  been  received  by  all  classes 
as  forming  a  group  of  original  and  perfect  lyrics  adapted  to  every 
platform  and  hall,  whether  sacred  or  secular.  To  say  this," 
continues  Dr.  Miller,  "  detracts  nothing  from  his  songs  of  love 
and  freedom.  It  is  only  saying  that  they  are  the  St.  Elias,  the 
Tacoma,  the  Hood,  and  the  Shasta,  which  out-tower  all  other 
song  peaks  and  reach  those  heights  where  the  sunshine  is  eternal 
and  the  view  universal." 

It  may  be  well  to  note  at  this  time  the  singular  fact  that  in  his 
poetical  life  Mr.  Clark  has  appeared  in  three  distinct  roles,  although 
he  has  always  been  the  poet  of  the  people.  During  his  youth 
and  early  manhood  the  popular  lyric  and  ballad  claimed  his 
power.  It  was  the  work  of  this  period  which  won  for  him  the 
name  of  the  Tom  Moore  of  America ;  and  had  he  not  taken  the 
other  upward  steps,  the  appellation  would  not  have  been  so  pal 
pably  inadequate  to  describe  the  man  who  for  thirty  years  has 
been  the  poet  of  reform  and  the  prophet  of  the  new  day.  When 
the  sixties  dawned,  the  first  song  epoch  of  his  life  was  drawing 
to  a  close,  and  the  mutterings  of  the  Rebellion  were  oppressing 
age  and  stimulating  youth  throughout  the  North.  Mr.  Clark 
had  given  his  country  a  collection  of  songs  and  ballads  destined 
to  live  long  after  his  body  had  returned  to  dust,  and  he  had  sung 
his  melody  into  the  hearts  of  thousands  who  had  listened  to  the 
poet  composer  and  singer  with  that  rapt  attention  which  is  the 
tribute  of  manhood  and  womanhood  to  genuine  merit.  The 
clouds  of  rebellion  were  gathering  around  the  horizon  ;  but  ere 
the  shock  of  arms  thrilled  the  nation,  Mr.  Clark  was  summoned 
to  the  death  bed  of  his  mother.  Sitting  at  her  side  as  the  spirit 
was  poising  for  flight,  and  catching  inspiration  from  her  words, 
there  came  to  him  that  exceedingly  popular  and  touching  poem, 
"  Leona,"  which  was  first  published  in  the  Home  Journal  of 
New  York,  then  edited  by  George  Morris  and  N.  P.  Willis. 
This  poem,  Mr.  Morris  afterwards  declared,  had  been  more 
widely  copied,  admired,  and  committed  to  memory  than  any  other 
composition  of  its  class  ever  published  in  America.  As  "  Leona  " 
affords  an  admirable  illustration  of  Mr.  Clark's  work  at  this  time, 


H  poet  of  tbe  people*  39 

and  because  it  belongs  to  a  class  of  poems  always  treasured  by 
the  people,  I  will  give  several  stanzas."* 

Leona,  the  hour  draws  nigh  — 

The  hour  we've  awaited  so  long, 
For  the  angel  to  open  a  door  through  the  sky, 
That  my  spirit  may  break  through  its  prison  and  try 

Its  voice  in  an  infinite  song. 

Just  now,  as  the  slumbers  of  night 

Came  o'er  me  with  peace-giving  breath, 
The  curtain,  half  lifted,  revealed  to  my  sight 
Those  windows  which  look  on  the  kingdom  of  light 

That  borders  the  River  of  Death. 

And  a  vision  fell  solemn  and  sweet, 

Bringing  gleams  of  a  morning-lit  land; 
I  saw  the  white  shore  which  the  pale  waters  beat, 
And  I  heard  the  low  lull  as  they  broke  at  their  feet 

Who  walk  on  the  beautiful  strand. 

And  I  wondered  why  spirits  should  cling 

To  their  clay  with  a  struggle  and  sigh, 
When  life's  purple  autumn  is  better  than  spring, 
And  the  soul  flies  away  like  a  sparrow,  to  sing 

In  a  climate  where  leaves  never  die. 

Leona,  come  close  to  my  bed, 

And  lay  your  dear  hand  on  my  brow ; 
The  same  touch  thrilled  me  in  days  that  are  fled, 
And  raised  the  lost  roses  of  youth  from  the  dead, 

Can  brighten  the  brief  moments  now. 

We  have  loved  from  the  cold  world  apart; 

And  your  trust  was  too  generous  and  true 
For  their  hate  to  o'erthrow;  when  the  slanderer's  dart 
Was  rankling  deep  in  my  desolate  heart, 

I  was  dearer  than  ever  to  you. 

I  thank  the  Great  Father  for  this, 

That  our  love  is  not  lavished  in  vain; 
Each  germ,  in  the  future,  will  blossom  to  bliss, 
And  the  forms  that  we  love,  and  the  lips  that  we  kiss, 

Never  shrink  at  the  shadow  of  pain. 

By  the  light  of  this  faith  am  I  taught 

That  death  is  but  action  begun; 

In  the  strength  of  this  hope  I  have  struggled  and  fought 
With  the  legions  of  wrong,  till  my  armor  has  caught 

The  gleam  of  Eternity's  sun. 

Leona,  look  forth  and  behold : 

From  headland,  from  hillside,  and  deep, 
The  day  king  surrenders  his  banners  of  gold ; 
The  twilight  advances  through  woodland  and  wold, 

And  the  dews  are  beginning  to  weep. 

*  The  selection  from  "Leona,"  "  Fremont's  Rattle  Hymn,"  and  "  The  Voice  of  the 
People,"  as  well  as  the  poems  "  Minnie  Minturn"  and  "The  Infinite  Mother,"  are  from 
Mr.  Clark's  volume  "  Poetry  and  Song."  Published  by  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.,  Boston,  Mass. 


-40  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas, 


The  moon's  silver  hair  lies  uncurled, 
Down  the  broad-breasted  mountains  away ; 
Ere  sunset's  red  glories  again  shall  be  furled 
On  the  wralls  of  the  west,  o'er  the  plains  of  the  world, 
I  shall  rise  in  a  limitless  day. 

Oh,  come  not  in  tears  to  my  tomb, 
Nor  plant  with  frail  flowers  the  sod ; 
There  is  rest  among  roses  too  sweet  for  its  gloom, 
And  life  where  the  lilies  eternally  bloom, 

In  the  balm-breathing  gardens  of  God. 


II. 

The  divine  afflatus  which  fills  the  poet  brain,  and  weaves  itself 
into  words  which  thrill  and  move  the  profound  depths  of  human 
emotions,  was  next  manifested  in  Mr.  Clark's  soul-awakening 
songs  of  freedom.  The  sweet  ballads  and  lyrics  of  love  and 
home  disappeared  before  stern  Duty's  voice.  While  Whittier, 
Longfellow  and  Lowell  were  tiring  the  heart  of  New  England, 
Mr.  Clark  sent  forth  "  Fremont's  Battle  Hymn,"  one  of  the  most 
noteworthy  poems  of  war-times,  and  a  song  which  produced  great 
enthusiasm  wherever  sung.  Some  idea  of  the  influence  which 
these  stirring  lines  produced  on  an  already  awakened  conscience 
may  be  imagined  by  perusal  of  the  following  lines  :  — 

Oh,  spirits  of  Washington,  Warren,  and  Wayne ! 

Oh,  shades  of  the  heroes  and  patriots  slain! 

Come  down  from  your  mountains  of  emerald  and  gold, 

And  smile  on  the  banner  ye  cherished  of  old; 

Descend  in  your  glorified  ranks  to  the  strife,1 

Like  legions  sent  forth  from  the  armies  of  life; 

Let  us  feel  your  deep  presence  as  waves  feel  the  breeze 

When  white  fleets  like  snowflakes  are  drowned  in  the  seas. 

As  the  red  lightnings  run  on  the  black,  jagged  cloud, 
Ere  the  thunder-king  speaks  from  his  wind-woven  shroud, 
So  gleams  the  bright  steel  along  valley  and  shore, 
Ere  the  conflict  shall  startle  the  land  with  its  roar; 
As  the  veil  which  conceals  the  clear  starlight  is  riven 
When  clouds  strike  together,  by  warring  winds  driven, 
So  the  blood  of  the  race  imrst  be~oft'ered  like  rain, 
Ere  the  starsnof  our  country  are  ransomed  again. 

The  hounds  of  Oppression  were  howling  the  knell 

Of  martyrs  and  prophets  at  gibbet  and  cell, 

While  Mercy  despaired  of  the  blossoming  years 

When  her  harpstrings  no  more  shall  be  rusted  with  tears; 

But  God  never  ceases  to  strike  for  the  right, 

And  the  ring  of  his  anvil  came  down  through  the  night, 

Though  the  world  was  asleep  and  the  Nation  seemed  dead, 

And  Truth  into  bondage  by  Error  was  led. 


H  poet  ot  tbe  people*  41 

Will  the  banners  of  morn  at  your  bidding  be  furled, 
When  the  day-king  arises  to  quicken  the  world  ? 
Can  ye  cool  the  fierce  fires  of  his  heat-throbbing  breast, 
Or  turn  him  aside  from  his  goal  in  the  west  ? 
Ah!  sons  of  the  plains  where  the  orange  tree  blooms, 
Ye  may  come  to  our  pine-covered  mountains  for  tombs, 
But  the  light  ye  would  smother  was  kindled  by  One 
Who  gave  to  the  universe  planet  and  sun. 

There  is  present  in  this  poem  much  of  the  fire  of  the  old 
prophets  of  Israel,  blended  with  that  lofty  faith  in  the  power  and 
favor  of  God  which  gave  peculiar  force  to  many  of  the  most 
striking  of  Whittier's  anti-slavery  verses. 

During  the  early  days  of  the  war  the  poet  travelled  from  town 
to  town,  singing  the  spirit  of  freedom  into  the  hearts  of  the 
people,  and  arousing  to  action  scores  and  hundreds  of  persons  in 
every  community  visited,  who  had  heretofore  taken  little  interest 
in  the  pending  struggle.  In  this  way  he  raised  many  thousands 
of  dollars  for  the  Sanitary  Commission  and  Soldiers'  Aid  societies. 
In  addition  to  "  Fremont's  Battle  Hymn,"  this  period  called  from 
his  pen  a  number  of  war  songs  and  poems,  such  as  "  Let  Me  Die 
with  My  Face  to  the  Foe,"  "When  You  and  I  Were  Soldier 
Boys,"  "The  Children  of  the  Battle-field,"  and  "Minnie  Minturn." 
The  history  of  this  last-mentioned  poem  is  peculiarly  interesting, 
and  reveals  the  fact  that  at  times  coming  events  have  been 
flashed  with  singular  vividness  on  the  sensitive  mind  of  our  poet. 
The  pathetic  facts  connected  with  the  poem  are  as  follows  :  Mr. 
Clark  was  visiting  a  family  by  the  name  of  Minturn.  In  the 
home  circle  was  a  young  lady  named  Maria,  who  had  a  lover  in 
the  army.  One  day  Mr.  Clark  said,  "  If  your  name  were  Minnie, 
it  would  make  a  musical  combination  for  a  poem."  The  young 
lady  blushed  and  replied  that  her  friends  often  called  her  Minnie, 
and  doubtless  at  this  moment  her  thoughts  went  out  to  the  soldier 
boy  for  whom  she  daily  prayed.  Some  months  passed,  when  one 
night,  while  the  poet  was  riding  in  a  sleeping-car,  the  words  of  the 
ballad  "Minnie  Minturn"  forced  themselves  upon  his  brain,  so 
haunting  his  mind  that  he  could  get  no  sleep  until  he  had  trans 
ferred  them  to  paper.  This  was  done  by  drawing  aside  the 
curtain  of  his  berth,  and  writing  in  the  faint  glimmer  of  the  lamps, 
which  had  been  turned  low  for  the  night.  It  is  probable  that  the 
poet  did  not  dream,  as  he  pencilled  the  following  lines,  that  he 
was  writing  a  prophecy  which  a  year  later  was  to  become  his 
tory.  Yet  such  was  in  fact  the  case. 

Minnie  Minturn,  in  the  shadow 

I  have  waited  here  alone,  — 

On  the  battle's  gory  meadow, 

Which  the  scythe  of  death  has  mown, 

I  have  listened  for  your  coming, 

Till  the  dreary  dawn  of  day, 


4-2  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

But  1  only  hear  the  drumming, 
As  the  armies  march  away. 

0  Minnie,  dear  Minnie, 

1  have  heard  the  angel's  warning, 
I  have  seen  the  golden  shore; 

I  will  meet  you  in  the  morning 
Where  the  shadows  come  no  more 

III. 

We  come  now  to  the  third  epoch  in  the  history  of  Mr.  Clark's 
poetry.  The  war  was  over.  His  thoughts  turned  to  the  toiling 
millions  of  our  land,  for  from  early  manhood  his  heart  had 
ever  kept  rhythmic  pace  with  the  hopes,  aspirations,  and  sorrows 
of  the  masses.  Now,  however,  the  ballad  singer  who  in  the 
nation's  crisis  became  the  poet  reformer,  becomes  the  prophet 
poet  of  the  dawning  day.  And  with  advancing  years  came  added 
power;  for  it  is  a  notable  fact  that  with  the  silver  of  age  has  come 
a  depth  of  thought,  coupled  with  strength  and  finish  in  style  not 
found  in  his  earlier  work.  Take,  for  example,  the  following 
stanzas  from  "A  Vision  of  the  Old  and  New." 

'Twas  in  the  slumber  of  the  night  — 

That  solemn  time,  that  mystic  state  — 
When,  from  its  loftiest  signal  height. 

My  soul  o'erlooked  the  realm  of  Fate, 
And  read  the  writing  on  the  wall, 

That  prophesies  of  things  to  be, 
And  heard  strange  voices  rise  and  fall 

Like  murmurs  from  a  distant  sea. 

The  world  below  me  throbbed  and  rolled 

In  all  its  glory,  pride,  and  shame, 
Its  lust  for  power,  its  greed  for  gold, 

Its  flitting  lights  that  man  calls  fame,— 
And  from  their  long  and  deep  repose, 

In  memory  and  page  sublime, 
The  ancient  races  round  me  rose 

Like  phantoms  from  the  tombs  of  Time,, 

I  saw  the  Alpine  torrents  press 

To  Tiber  with  their  snow-white  foam, 
And  prowling  in  the  wilderness 

The  wolf  that  suckled  infant  Home. 
But  wilder  than  the  mountain  flood 

That  plunged  upon  its  downward  way, 
And  fiercer  than  the  she-wolf's  brood, 

The  soul  of  man  went  forth  to  slay. 

Kingdoms  to  quick  existence  sprang. 

Each  thirsting  for  another's  gore, 
The  din  of  wars  incessant  rang, 

And  siirns  of  hate  each  forehead  wore. 


H  poet  ot  tbe  people*  43 

All  nations  bore  the  mark  of  Cain, 

And  only  knew  tlie  law  of  might: 
They  lived  and  strove  for  selfish  gain 

And  perished  like  the  dreams  of  night. 

******** 

I  woke;  and  slept,  and  dreamed  once  more,  — 

And  from  a  continent's  white  crest, 
I  heard  two  oceans  seethe  and  roar, 

Along  vast  lands  by  nature  blest: 
All  races  mingled  at  my  feet, 

With  noise  and  strange  confusion  rife, 
And  Old  World  projects  —  incomplete  — 

Seemed  maddened  with  a  new-found  life. 

The  thirst  for  human  blood  had  waned; 

But  boldly  seated  on  the  throne, 
The  grasping  god  of  Mammon  reigned, 

And  claimed  Earth's  product  for  his  own. 
He  gathered  all  that  toilers  made, 

To  fill  his  vaults  with  wealth  untold. 
The  sunlight,  water,  air,  and  shade 

Paid  tribute  to  his  greed  for  gold. 

He  humbly  paid  his  vows  to  God, 

While  agents  gathered  rents  and  dues, 
He  ruled  the  nation  with  a  nod, 

And  bribed  the  pulpit  with  the  pews; 
Yet,  over  all  the  regal  form 

Of  Freedom  towered,  unseen  by  him, 
And  eagles  poised  above  the  storm 

That  draped  the  far  horizon's  rim. 
At  length,  the  distant  thunder  spoke 

In  deep  and  threatening  accents;  then 
The  long  roll  of  the  earthquake  woke 

From  sleep  a  hundred  million  men. 
*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

I  woke:  and  slept  and  dreamed  again: 

A  softened  glory  filled  the  air, 
The  morning  flooded  land  and  main, 

And  Peace  was  brooding  everywhere ; 
From  sea  to  sea  the  song  was  known 

That  only  God's  own  children  know, 
Whose  notes,  by  angel  voices  sown, 

Took  root  two  thousand  years  ago. 

No  more  the  wrandering  feet  had  need 

Of  priestly  guides  to  Paradise, 
And  banished  was  the  iron  creed 

That  measured  God  by  man's  devise; 
No  more  the  high  cathedral  dome 

Was  reared  to  tell  His  honors  by, 
For  Christ  was  throned  in  every  home, 

And  shpne  from  every  human  eye. 

No  longer  did  the  beast  control 

And  make  the  spirit  desolate; 
No  more  the  poor  man's  struggling  soul 

Sank  down  before  the  wheel  of  Fate : 


44  persons,  places  anb  flfceas, 

And  pestilence  could  not  draw  near, 

Nor  war  and  crime  be  felt  or  seen  — 
As  flames,  that  lap  the  withered  spear, 

Expire  before  the  living  green. 

And  all  of  this  shall  come  to  pass  — 

For  God  is  Love,  and  Love  shall  reign, 
Though  nations  iirst  dissolve  like  grass 

Before  the  fire  that  sweeps  the  plain; 
And  men  shall  cease  to  lift  their  gaze 

To  seek  Him  in  the  far-off  blue, 
But  live  the  Truth  their  lips  now  praise 

And  in  their  lives  His  life  renew. 

This  poem  was  founded  on  a  vivid  dream  which  came  to  the 
poet  and  so  impressed  him  that  he  found  no  peace  until  he  com 
mitted  the  verses  to  paper.  In  the  following  stanzas  from  the 
"  Voice  of  the  People  "  we  also  find  the  clear  note  of  the  prophet. 

Swing  inward,  O  gates  of  the  future ! 

Swing  outward,  ye  doors  of  the  past! 
For  the  soul  of  the  people  is  moving 

And  rising  from  slumber  at  last; 
The  black  forms  of  night  are  retreating, 

The  white  peaks  have  signalled  the  day, 
And  Freedom  her  long  roll  is  beating, 

And  calling  her  sons  to  the  fray. 

And  woe  to  the  rule  that  has  plundered 

And  trod  down  the  wounded  and  slain, 
While  the  wars  of  the  Old  Time  have  thundered, 

And  men  poured  their  life-tide  in  vain; 
The  day  of  its  triumph  is  ending, 

The  evening  draws  near  with  its  doom, 
And  the  star  of  its  strength  is  descending, 

To  sleep  in  dishonor  and  gloom. 

The  soil  tells  the  same  fruitful  story, 

The  seasons  their  bounties  display, 
And  the  flowers  lift  their  faces  in  glory 

To  catch  the  warm  kisses  of  day; 
While  our  fellows  are  treated  as  cattle 

That  are  muzzled  when  treading  the  corn, 
And  millions  sink  down  in  life's  battle 

With  a  sigh  for  the  day  they  were  born. 

Ah,  woe  to  the  robbers  who  gather 

In  fields  where  they  never  have  sown, 
Who  have  stolen  the  jewels  from  labor 

And  builded  to  Mammon  a  throne ; 
For  the  snow-king,  asleep  by  the  fountains, 

Shall  wake  in  the  summer's  hot  breath, 
And  descend  in  his  rage  from  the  mountains, 

Bearing  terror,  destruction,  and  death. 

For  the  Lord  of  the  harvest  hath  said  it, 

Whose  lips  never  uttered  a  lie, 
And  his  prophets  and  poets  have  read  it 

In  symbols  of  earth  and  of  sky: 


H  poet  of  tbe  people,  45 

That  to  him  who  has  revelled  in  plunder 

Till  the  angel  of  conscience  is  dumb, 
The  shock  of  the  earthquake  and  thunder 

And  tempest  and  torrent  shall  come. 

Swing  inward,  O  gates  of  the  future ! 

Swing  outward,  ye  doors  of  the  past! 
A  giant  is  waking  from  slumber 

And  rending  his  fetters  at  last; 
From  the  dust  where  his  proud  tyrants  found  him; 

Unhonored  and  scorned  and  betrayed, 
lie  shall  rise  with  the  sunlight  around  him, 

And  rule  in  the  realm  he  has  made. 

The  poet's  loyalty  to  the  toilers  is  voiced  in  most  of  his  latest 
poems  and  songs.  "  The  People's  Battle  Hymn,"  *  published  last 
autumn,  was  sung  with  great  effect  at  the  industrial  gatherings 
throughout  the  West.  Of  this  song  General  J.  B.  Weaver,  the 
candidate  of  the  People's  Party  for  president  in  1892,  said:  "It 
is  the  song  we  have  been  waiting  for.  It  is  an  Iliad  of  itself." 

The  following  stanzas  from  this  song  will  give  an  idea  of  the 
exaltation  of  thought  which,  when  accompanied  by  Mr.  Clark's 
soul-stirring  music,  arouses  an  almost  indescribable  enthusiam 
among  the  people  wherever  it  is  sung :  — 

There's  a  sound  of  swelling  waters,  there's  a  voice  from  out  the  blue. 

Where  the  Master  his  arm  is  revealing, — 
Lo!  the  glory  of  the  morning  lights  the  forehead  of  the  New, 

And  the  towers  of  the  Old  Time  are  reeling. 

CHORUS. 

Lift  high  the  banner,  break  from  the  chain, 

Wake  from  the  thraldom  of  story; 
Like  the  torrent  to  the  river,  the  river  to  the  main, 

Forward  to  liberty  and  glory! 

There  is  tramping  in  the  cities  where  the  people  march  along, 

And  the  trumpet  of  Justice  is  calling; 
There's  a  crashing  of  the  helmet  on  the  forehead  of  the  Wrong, 

And  the  battlements  of  Babylon  are  falling. 

He  shall  gather  in  the  homeless,  he  shall  set  the  people  free, 

He  shall  wralk  hand  in  hand  with  the  toiler,  — 
He  shall  render  back  to  labor,  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea, 

The  lands  that  are  bound  by  the  spoiler. 

There  is  doubt  within  the  temples  where  the  gods  are  bought  and  sold, 

They  are  leaving  the  false  for  the  true  way; 
There's  a  cry  of  consternation  where  the  idols  made  of  gold 

Are  melting  in  the  glance  of  the  Xew  Day. 

O!  the  Master  of  the  morning,  how  we  waited  for  his  light 
In  the  old  days  of  doubting  and  fearing! 

"The  People's  Battle  Hymn."  Words  and  music  by  J.  G.  Clark.  Published  by 
Oliver  Ditson  &  Co.,  Boston,' Mass. 


46  persons,  places  anfc  flbeas, 

How  we  watched  among  the  shadows  of  the  long  and  weary  night 
For  his  feet  upon  the  mountains  appearing. 

Let  the  lightning  tell  the  story  to  the  sea's  remotest  bands, 

Let  the  campfires  of  Freedom  be  flaming; 
While  the  voices  of  the  heavens  join  the  chorus  of  the  land, 

Which  the  children  of  men  are  proclaiming. 

In  another  recent  poem,  entitled  "  A  Song  for  the  Period,"  we 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  deep  sympathy  ever  felt  by  this  poet  for 
the  people.  I  have  only  space  for  two  stanzas. 

I  cannot  join  with  the  old-time  friends 

In  their  merry  games  and  sports 
While  the  pleading  wail  of  the  poor  ascends 

To  the  Judge  of  the  Upper  Courts; 
And  I  cannot  sing  the  glad,  free  songs 

That  the  world  around  me  sings, 
While  my  fellows  move  in  cringing  throngs 

At  the  beck  of  the  gilded  kings. 

The  scales  hang  low  from  the  open  skies, — 

That  have  weighed  them,  one  and  all, — 
And  the  flery  letters  gleam  and  rise 

O'er  the  feast  in  the  palace  hall; 
But  my  lighter  lays  shall  slumber  on 

The  boughs  of  the  willow  tree 
Till  the  king  is  slain  in  Babylon, 

And  the  captive  hosts  go  free. 

Mr.  Clark  was  married  early  in  life  to  a  lady  of  his  native 
home.  Three  children  came  to  bless  this  union.  One,  however, 
was  recalled  by  the  infinite  Father.  In  memory  of  this  child  the 
stricken  father  composed  a  touching  little  gem  entitled  "  Beauti 
ful  Annie." 

.Mr.  Clark  is  not  only  a  poet,  musical  composer,  and  singer  of 
rare  ability,  he  is  a  scholarly  essayist,  and,  during  recent  years,  has 
contributed  many  papers  of  power  and  literary  value  to  the  lead 
ing  dailies  of  the  Pacific  coast.  A  fair  specimen  of  his  work  in 
this  line  will  be  found  in  the  following  criticism  on  Robert  Burns, 
which  I  take  from  a  recent  contribution  to  one  of  the  most  influ 
ential  dailies  in  Southern  California.  In  speaking  of  Robert 
Burns,  Mr.  Clark  says  :  — 

True,  he  was  not  compelled  to  affect  the  peculiar  dialect  in  which 
was  written  his  most  characteristic  and  enduring  verse,  because  it  was 
the  dialect  in  which  he  was  born  and  reared ;  but,  nevertheless,  in  and 
through  it  he  has  made  not  only  all  Scotland  love  him  as  no  other  poet 
is  loved  to-day,  but  he  won  the  homage  of  lovers  of  humanity,  democ 
racy  and  religious  freedom  wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken. 

It  was  through  his  songs  and  poems,  written  in  the  homely  Scotch 
dialect  of  his  times,  that  the  common  Scotch  people  became  a  nation  of 
poets.  It  was  through  Burns,  who  found  poetry  in  the  most  common 
and  lowly  objects, —  even  the  little  "mouse,"  whose  nest  had  been 


H  poet  ot  tbe  people*  47 

wrecked  by  the  poet's  plow,  —  that  the  most  unlettered  Scotchman  dis 
covered  the  poetry  lying  latent  in  his  own  heart  and  mind ;  and  at  a  period 
when  "poetic  art,"  so  called,  was  claimed  as  the  exclusive  inheritance 
of  the  self-elected  and  cultured  few,  he  restored  to  the  uneducated 
peasant  and  cotter  his  lawful  birthright. 

There  is  no  such  thing  as  estimating  the  extent  to  which  the  better 
and  higher  qualities  of  Scotch  character  have  been  quickened,  developed, 
and  refined  through  the  lyrics  of  Robert  Burns,  more  especially  those 
lyrics  that  appeal  directly  to  the  hearts  and  e  very-day  life  of  his  country 
men.  This  is  why  the  true  Scotchman,  while  admiring  Scott,  loves  and 
worships  Burns. 

The  wealth  of  poetic  imagery,  strength  and  deep  penetration 
which  characterizes  the  recent  work  of  Mr.  Clark  is  very  notice 
able  in  some  of  his  later  poems,  and  reaches  altitudes  of  sublimity 
in  thought  rare  among  modern  poets.  This  characteristic  is  well 
illustrated  in  "  The  Infinite  Mother,"  which  I  give  below.  It  is 
considered  by  many  critics  as  Mr.  Clark's  masterpiece. 

THE   INFINITE   MOTHER. 

I  am  mother  of  Life  and  companion  of  God ! 

I  move  in  each  mote  from  the  suns  to  the  sod, 

I  brood  in  all  darkness,  I  gleam  in  all  light, 

I  fathom  all  depth,  and  I  crown  every  hight; 

Within  me  the  globes  of  the  universe  roll, 

And  through  me  all  matter  takes  impress  and  soul. 

Without  me  all  forms  into  chaos  would  fall ; 

I  was  under,  within,  and  around,  over  all, 

Ere  the  stars  of  the  morning  in  harmony  sung, 

Or  the  systems  and  suns  from  their  grand  arches  swung. 

I  loved  you,  O  earth!  in  those  cycles  profound, 

When  darkness  unbroken  encircled  you  round, 

And  the  fruit  of  creation,  the  race  of  mankind, 

Was  only  a  dream  in  the  Infinite  Mind ; 

I  nursed  you,  O  earth !  ere  your  oceans  were  born, 

Or  your  mountains  rejoiced  in  the  gladness  of  morn, 

When  naked  and  helpless  you  came  from  the  womb, 

Ere  the  seasons  had  decked  you  with  verdure  and  bloom 

And  all  that  appeared  of  your  form  or  your  face 

Was  a  bare,  lurid  ball  in  the  vast  wilds  of  space. 

When  your  bosom  was  shaken  and  rent  with  alarms 

I  calmed  and  caressed  you  to  sleep  in  my  arms. 

I  sung  o'er  your  pillow  the  song  of  the  spheres 

Till  the  hum  of  its  melody  softened  your  fenrs, 

And  the  hot  flames  of  passion  burned  low  in  your  breast 

As  you  lay  on  my  heart  like  a  maiden  at  rest; 

When  fevered,  I  cooled  you  with  mist  and  with  shower, 

And  kissed  you  with  cloudlet  and  rainbow  and  tlower, 

Till  you  woke  in  the  heavens  arrayed  like  a  queen, 

In  garments  of  purple,  of  gold,  and  of  green, 

From  fabrics  of  glory  my  fingers  had  spun 

For  the  mother  of  nations  and  bride  of  the  sun. 


48  Persons,  places  anfc  flfceas, 

There  was  love  in  your  face,  and  your  bosom  rose  fair, 
And  the  scent  of  your  lilies  made  fragrant  the  air, 
And  your  blush  in  the  glance  of  your  lover  was  rare 
As  you  waltzed  in  the  light  of  his  warm  yellow  hair, 
Or  lay  in  the  haze  of  his  tropical  noons, 
Or  slept  'neath  the  gaze  of  the  passionless  moons: 
And  I  stretched  out  my  arms  from  the  awful  unknown, 
AYhose  channels  are  swept  by  my  rivers  alone, 
And  held  you  secure  in  your  young  mother  days, 
And  sung  to  your  offspring  their  lullaby  lays, 
While  races  and  nations  came  forth  from  your  breast, 
Lived,  struggled,  and  died,  and  returned  to  their  rest. 

All  creatures  conceived  at  the  Fountain  of  Cause 

Are  born  of  my  travail,  controlled  by  my  laws; 

I  throb  in  their  veins  and  I  breathe  in  their  breath, 

Combine  them  for  effort,  disperse  them  in  death; 

Xo  form  is  too  great  or  minute  for  my  care, 

No  place  so  remote  but  my  presence  is  there. 

I  bend  in  the  grasses  that  whisper  of  spring, 

I  lean  o'er  the  spaces  to  hear  the  stars  sing, 

I  laugh  with  the  infant,  I  roar  with  the  sea, 

I  roll  in  the  thunder,  I  hum  with  the  bee; 

From  the  centre  of  suns  to  the  flowers  of  the  sod 

I  am  shuttle  and  loom  in  the  purpose  of  God, 

The  ladder  of  action  ail  spirit  must  climb 

To  the  clear  higlits  of  Love  from  the  lowlands  of  Time. 

'Tis  mine  to  protect  you,  fair  bride  of  the  sun, 

Till  the  task  of  the  bride  and  the  bridegroom  is  done; 

Till  the  roses  that  crown  you  shall  wither  away, 

And  the  bloom  on  your  beautiful  cheek  shall  decay; 

Till  the  soft  golden  locks  of  your  lover  turn  gray, 

And  palsy  shall  fall  on  the  pulses  of  Day ; 

Till  you  cease  to  give  birth  to  the  children  of  men, 

And  your  forms  are  absorbed  in  my  currents  again  — 

But  your  sons  and  your  daughters,  unconquered  by  strife. 

Shall  rise  on  my  pinions  and  bathe  in  my  life 

While  the  fierce  glowing  splendors  of  suns  cease  to  burn, 

And  bright  constellations  to  vapor  return, 

And  new  ones  shall  rise  from  the  graves  of  the  old, 

Shine,  fade,  and  dissolve  like  a  tale  that  is  told. 

Like  Victor  Hugo,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Robert  Browning, 
and,  indeed,  a  large  proportion  of  the  most  profoundly  spiritual 
natures  of  the  nineteenth  century,  Mr.  Clark,  while  deeply  relig 
ious,  is  unfettered  by  creeds  and  untrammelled  by  dogmas.  In 
bold  contrast  to  the  narrow-minded  religionists  who,  like  the 
Pharisees  of  Jesus'  time,  worship  the  letter,  which  kills,  and  who 
are  to-day  persecuting  men  for  conscience'  sake,  and  seeking  to 
unite  church  and  state,  Mr.  Clark's  whole  life  has  been  a  protest 
against  intolerance,  persecution,  and  bigotry.  Living  in  a  purely 
spiritual  realm,  HE  LOVES,  and  that  renders  it  impossible  to  cher 
ish  the  spirit  of  bigotry  and  persecution  manifested  by  the  Ameri- 


H  poet  of  tfte  people*  49 

can  Sabbath  Union  and  other  persecuting  and  unchristian  bodies, 
whose  leaders  have  never  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  real  spirit  or 
character  of  Jesus.  He  is  a  follower  of  the  great  Xazarene  in 
the  truest  sense  of  the  word,  and  thus  cannot  understand  how 
professed  Christians  can  so  prostitute  religion  and  ignore  their 
Master's  injunctions  as  to  persecute  their  fellow-men  for  opin 
ion's  sake.  On  this  and  kindred  subjects  he  has  written  very 
thoughtfully  and  with  great  power. 

The  light  of  another  world  has  already  silvered  and  glorified 
the  brow  of  this  poet  of  the  dawn ;  and  as  I  have  before  observed, 
with  advancing  years  comes  intellectual  and  spiritual  strength 
rather  than  a  diminution  of  power.  Such  men  as  Mr.  Clark 
wield  a  subtle  influence  for  good  in  the  world.  Their  lives  and 
thoughts  are  alike  an  inspiration  to  thousands ;  their  names  live 
enshrined  in  the  love  of  the  earnest,  toiling,  struggling  people  — 
the  nation's  real  nobility . 


after  Siit\>  |J?ear6, 


The  snow  of  age  is  on  my  head, 
But  eternal  Spring  is  in  iny  heart. 

—  Victor  Hugo. 

Of  the  many  who  enter  life  strong  and  enthusiastic  in  the 
cause  of  justice  and  humanity,  only  a  few  persevere  to  the 
end,  without  faltering-,  if  that  end  be  deferred  until  the 
snows  of  age  crown  the  brow.  Some  centre  their  energies 
on  a  single  reform  and  battle  unceasingly  for  the  despised 
cause,  patiently  and  dauntlessly  braving  the  contumely  and 
persecution  of  conventionalism.  They  are  usually  very 
finely  strung  natures;  indeed,  I  think  the  reformer  who  bat 
tles  for  the  weak  and  oppressed,  is  always  almost  super- 
sensitive;  hence,  the  abuse,  the  sneers  and  social  ostracism 
he  is  compelled  to  endure  for  the  weak,  ignorant,  and 
oppressed,  whose  cause  he  makes  his  own,  cut  into  his 
very  soul  in  a  manner  little  dreamed  of  by  the  careless 
masses.  At  length*,  however,  the  reform  is  accomplished; 
the  minority  becomes  the  majority,  and  he  who  was 
yesterday  denounced  as  a  shallow  agitator,  an  insufferable 
crank  and  a  hysterical  emotionalist  is  hailed  as  a  prophet, 
hero  and  sage  by  that  same  soulless  and  shallow  conven 
tionalism  which  scorned  him  so  long  as  the  cause  for  which 
he  battled  was  unpopular. 

When  this  hour  arises  it  carries  perils  with  it  for  the 
reformer;  it  is  now  so  easy  to  rest  on  well-earned  laurels 
and  enjoy  the  sweeter  melodies  of  life.  The  cause  is  won— 
nay,  not  the  cause,  but  one  battle  in  the  ceaseless  warfare 
by  which  man  rises  to  nobler  heights;  but  conventionalism 
will  have  it  that  the  cause  is  won.  and  often  the  reformer  at 
this  point  falls  by  the  wayside,  ceasing  to  be  a  reformer, 
although  he  may  continue  to  utter  high,  sweet,  and  noble 
thoughts.  The  poet  Whittier  is  an  example  of  this  class. 
After  the  war  the  despised  agitator  who  for  so  long  had 
suffered  social  ostracism,  was  welcomed  into  the  arms  of 
the  conventionalism  which  had  endeavored  to  slay  him. 
All  that  was  asked  of  him  was  that  he  would  rest  on  his 
laurels,  in  so  far  as  aggressive  reform  work  was  concerned, 
and  turn  his  muse  to  greener  and  more  restful  pastures. 
He  naturally  hated  conflict  and  loved  peace.  He  chose  iho 
velvet,  grass-lined  banks  and  rested  by  the  wayside,  while 
Wendell  Phillips  from  the  cause  of  the  oppressed  black 

50 


Hftcr  Sirt\>     ears.  5i 


man  turned  to  that  of  the  enslaved  white  man  and  dealt 
giant  blows  for  freedom,  justice  and  progress  so  long  as 
his  silver-toned  voice  could  utter  a  protest  against  inhuman 
ity,  injustice  and  oppression. 

Another  class  of  reformers  becomes  discouraged  by  the 
ingratitude  and  ignorance  of  those  they  seek  to  aid.  *Th<?y 
find  themselves  misjudged,  misrepresented  and  maligned 
by  the  demagogues  who.  influenced  by  the  capital  of  the 
oppressors  or  consumed  by  love  of  self  and  petty  jealousy, 
discredit  the  high,  pure  unselfishness  of  single-hearted  men 
and  women  :  and  the  latter  too  often,  after  being  made  the 
target  for  those  they  would  help,  become  discouraged  and 
h'pse  into  silence:  their  voices  like  the  powerful  guns  of 
a  battle  ship  are  stilled,  but  the  spiking  is  due  to  traitors  on 
board,  rather  than  to  the  fire  from  the  enemy. 

Still  another  class  who  enter  life  strong,  aggressive, 
brave,  and  determined  to  consecrate  their  best  energies 
to  the  cause  of  human  brotherhood,  gradually  fall  under 
the  spell  of  conventionalism:  the  multitudinous  disappoint 
ments  which  beset  their  pathway  slowly  dampen  the  ardor 
which  impelled  them  onward.  Hope,  courage  and  deter 
mination  give  way  to  a  painful  and  oppressive  pessimism. 
The  "  Locksley  Hall  "  of  youth,  which  is  the  story  of 
strength,  hope  and  determination,  is  changed  into  the 
"Locksley  Hall  Sixty  Years  After."  which  is  a  tale  of 
despair.  This  is  the  saddest  of  all  sights,  save  that  of  open 
betrayal  or  treachery. 

In  broad  contrast  with  those  who  aggressively  enter  the 
warfare  for  eternal  justice  and  human  brotherhood,  but 
who  becoming  tired,  disheartened  or  asphyxiated,  fall  by 
the  wayside,  we  find  a  few  —  a  chosen  band  of  lofty  spirits  — 
who  persevere  in  the  cause  until  the  nijrht  comes  upon  them, 
and  they  fall  with  their  armor  on.  like  Victor  Hugo,  who 
was  a  conspicuous  representative  of  this  order  of  nature's 
royalty.  They  can  exclaim.  "The  winter  is  on  our  heads. 
but  eternal  spring  is  in  our  hearts."  They  are  prophets  — 
ibey  are  more  than  prophets,  for  the  prophet  may  only 
discern  the  siinis  of  the  times  and  point  out  the  luminous 
truth  he  beholds.  They  are  warriors  —  they  are  more  than 
warriors,  for  a  warrior  may  fight  for  self  or  in  an  evil  cam 
They  are  heroes  —  they  are  more  than  heroes,  for  th»*  hero 
may  win  glorious  victories  but  afterward  rest  on  his  laurels 
amid  The  plaudits  of  an  admiring  world.  They  are  the 
vanTs  of  progress.  The  apostles  of  liirht.  who  think  only  of 
serving  the  ra«  e.  shedding  forth  The  liirhT  of  justice,  dis 
pelling  the  darkness,  and  enabling  the  race  to  move  forward, 


5-2 ,  persons,  places  anfc  UDeas, 

i^f- 

Among  those  who  belong  to  this  select  band  of  truly 
royal  souls,  who  are  Poets  of  the  people,  William  Morris, 
Gerald  Massey  and  our  own  James  G.  Clark  are  inspiring 
figures  which  are  still  among  us.  Mr.  Clark,  like  Whit- 
tier,  battled  for  the  emancipation  of  the  black  man. 
With  pen  and  voice  he  performed  valiant  service  for 
the  slaves,  and  when  the  clash  of  arms  came,  as  poet, 
composer  and  singer  he  became  a  threefold  inspira 
tion  in  the  struggle  for  liberty  and  a  broader  justice.  But 
unlike  Whittier,  after  the  war  was  over  this  poet  refused 
to  lay  down  his  armor;  he  knew  the  victory  was  an  incident 
in  the  history  of  progress.  The  enfranchisement  of  the 
negroes  was  not  the  only  enfranchisement  to  be  accom 
plished;  indeed,  the  black  man  had  only  been  freed  from  one 
form  of  slavery;  he  still  remained  ignorant,  and  his  soul 
had  never  been  wTarmed  into  life  by  justice  and  kindliness. 
Moreover,  the  war,  while  it  had  broken  the  chains  of  chattel 
slavery,  had  promoted  special  privileges,  and  led  to  the 
enactment  of  class  laws  as  gigantic  in  character  as  they 
were  multitudinous  in  number;  these  evils,  tolerated  at 
first  owing  to  the  exigencies  of  the  time,  and  because  the 
attention  of  statesmen  and  patriots  was  occupied  with  the 
immediate  life  of  the  Union,  carried  with  them  a  potential 
serfdom  more  far-reaching  and  essentially  tragic  than  the 
slavery  which  had  hitherto  been  recognized  in  the  Xew 
World.  Far-seeing  minds,  when  the  stress  of  the  war  was 
past,  beheld  in  this  growing  conventionalism,  fostered  by 
special  privilege,  a  menace  to  the  rights  of  individuals, 
which  threatened  to  make  the  republic  what  the  patricians 
through  the  power  of  wealth  made  of  the  ancient  common 
wealth  of  Rome — the  republican  shell,  under  cover  of  which 
the  most  hopeless  oppression  flourished.  Against  the 
aggressiveness  of  wealth  in  the  han-ds  of  shrewd,  cunning 
and  soulless  men  and  corporations  Mr.  Clark  raised  his 
clarion  voice,  even  more  eloquent  than  in  the  old  days  when 
he  wrote,  composed  and  sung  for  freedom  and  the  Union 
before  the  black  man  had  been  freed.  It  is  difficult  to  con 
ceive  a  picture  more  inspiring  than  this  patriarch  of  Free 
dom,  whose  brow  is  already  lighted  w7ith  the  dawn  of 
another  life,  fronting  the  morning  with  eyes  of  fire  and 
voice  rich,  full  and  clear,  now  persuasive,  now  imperious, 
but  never  faltering,  as  he  delivers  the  messages  of  eternal 
truth,  progress,  and  justice. 

I  know  of  no  singer  of  our  time  to  wThom  the  following 
wrords,  penned  by  James  Russell  Lowell  in  1844  when  writ 
ing  of  Whittier,  are  so  applicable  as  to  the  poet  we  are  now 


Hfter  Stitp  Keats*  53 

considering.  By  changing  the  word  WMtticr  to  Mils  poet 
in  the  following  we  have  a  more  graphic  and  concise  char 
acterization  of  James  G.  Clark  than  it  wrould  be  possible  for 
me  to  give : 

"Tie  has  not  put  his  talent  out  at  profitable  interest  by  cater 
ing  to  the  insolent  and  pharisaical  self-esteem  of  the  times,  nor 
has  he  hidden  it  in  the  damask  of  historical  commonplaces, 
or  a  philanthropy  too  universal  to  concern  itself  with  par 
ticular  wrongs,  the  practical  redressing  of  wrhich  is  all  that 
renders  philanthropy  of  value.  Most  poets  are  content  to 
follow  the  spirit  of  their  age  as  pigeons  follow  a  leaking 
grain  cart,  picking  a  kernel  here  and  there  out  of  the  dry 
dust  of  the  past.  Not  so  with  [this  poet].  From  the  heart 
of  the  onset  upon  the  serried  mercenaries  of  every  tyranny, 
the  chord  of  his  iron-strung  lyre  clangs  with  a  martial  and 
triumphant  cheer." 

Mr.  Clark,  like  William  Morris,  Mr.  Howells,  and  many 
others  of  our  finest  contemporary  thinkers,  has  become  an 
ardent  social  democrat.  Perhaps  he  is  not  quite  so  extreme 
in  his  views  as  the  English  poet,  but  I  imagine  he  holds 
opinions  much  the  same  as  those  entertained  by  Mr. 
Howells,  and  he  is  even  more  aggressive  than  the  Ameri 
can  novelist,  which  is  saying  much,  when  one  considers  Mr. 
Howells'  fine  and  brave  work  of  recent  years,  and  especially 
his  bold  satire  on  present-day  injustice,  in  "A  Traveller 
from  Altruria." 

In  the  present  paper  I  wish  to  group  together  a  few  poems 
of  humanity,  written  by  Mr.  Clark  since  he  passed  his 
sixtieth  mile-post.  They  are  timely  utterances,  impressing 
the  great  truth  so  nobly  presented  by  Mazzini  that  "Life 
is  a  mission,"  "Life  is  duty,"  and  similarly  expressed  by 
Victor  Hugo  when  he  declares  that  "Life  is  conscience." 

Mr.  Clark  is  one  of  the  poets  of  the  people,  and  he  clothes 
the  eternal  verities  of  which  he  speaks  in  simple  and 
effective  imagery,  sometimes  turning  to  nature,  sometimes 
to  the  Bible,  for  his  figures.  Here  is  a  really  noble  creation, 
a  poem  wrell  worthy  of  living  in  the  patriotic  heart: 

Freedom's  Reveille. 

The  time  has  passed  for  idle  rest: 

Columbia,  from  your  slumber  rise! 
Replace  the  shield  upon  your  breast, 

And  cast  the  veil  from  off  your  eyes, 
And  view  your  torn  and  stricken  fold — 

By  prowlinjr  wolves  made  desolate — 
Your  honor  sold  for  alien  gold 

By  traitors  in  vour  Halls  of  State. 


54  persons,  places  ant)  UDeas 


Our  mothers  wring  their  fettered  hands; 

Our  sires  fall  fainting  by  the  way; 
The  Lion  robs  them  of  their  lauds, 

The  Eagle  guards  them  to  betray: 
Shall  they  who  kill  through  craft  and  greed 

Receive  a  brand  less  black  than  Cain's? 
Shall  paid  "procurers"  of  the  deed 

Stili  revel  in  their  Judas  gains? 

O  daughter  of  that  matchless  Sire, 

Whose  valor  made  your  name  sublime, 
Whose  spirit,  like  a  living  fire, 

Lights  up  the  battlements  of  Time,— 
The  World's  sad  Heart,  with  pleading  moan, 

Breaks  at  your  feet— as  breaks  the  main 
In  ceaseless  prayer  from  zone  to  zone— 

And  shall  it  plead  and  break  in  vain  ? 

Fling  off  that  golden  garb  of  lace 

That  knaves  have  spun  to  mask  your  form, 
And  let  the  lightning  from  your  face 

Gleam  out  upon  the  gathering  storm — 
That  awful  face  who&e  silent  look 

Swept  o'er  the  ancient  thrones  of  kings, 
And  like  the  bolts  of  Sinai  shook 

The  base  of  old  established  things. 

The  promise  of  an  age  to  be 

Has  touched  with  gold  the  mountain  mist, 
Its  white  fleets  plow  the  morning  sea, 

Its  flags  the  Morning  Star  has  kissed. 
But  still  the  martyred  ones  of  yore — 

By  tyrants  to  the  scaffold  led  — 
Transfigured  now,  forevermore, 

Gaze  backward  from  the  ages  dead, 

And  ask:   "How  long,  O  Lord!   how  long 

Shall  creeds  conceal  God's  human  side, 
And  Christ  the  God  be  crowned  in  song 

While  Christ  the  man  is  crucified? 
How  long  shall  Mammon's  tongue  of  fraud 

At  Freedom's  Prophets  wag  in  sport, 
While  chartered  murder  stalks  abroad, 

Approved  by  Senate,  Church    and  Court?" 

The  strife  shall  not  forever  last 

'Twixt  cunning  Wrong  and  passive  Truth — 
The  blighting  demon  of  the  Past, 

Chained  to  the  beauteous  form  of  Youth; 
The  Truth  shall  rise,  its  bonds  shall  break, 

Its  day  with  cloudless  glory  burn. 
The  Right  with  Might  from  slumber  wake, 

And  the  dead  wrong  to  dust  return. 

The  long  night  wanes;   the  stars  wax  dim; 

The  Young  Day  looks  through  bars  of  blood; 
The  air  throbs  with  the  breath  of  Him 

Whose  Pulse  was  in  the  Red-Sea  flood; 


Hfter  Silts  ]l)ears. 


And  flanked  by  mountains,  right  and  left, 
The  People  stand — a  doubting  horde — 

Before  them  heave  the  tides  uncleft, 
Behind  them  flashes  Pharaoh's  sword. 

But  lo!  the  living  God  controls, 

And  marks  the  bounds  of  slavery's  night, 
And  speaks  through  all  the  dauntless  souls 

That  live,  or  perish,  for  the  right. 
His  face  shall  light  the  People  still, 

His  Hand  shall  cut  the  tSea  in  twain, 
And  sky  and  wave  and  mountain  thrill 

To  Miriam's  triumphant  strain. 


Mr.  Clark  is  a  profoundly  religious  man,  but  he  is  singu 
larly  free  from  that  dogmatism  and  creedal  idolatry,  that 
narrow  and  fanatical  bigotry  and  pharisaism  which  have 
made  the  church  odious  to  thousands  of  the  finest,  truest 
and  most  religious  natures  of  the  century,  and  which  have 
led  many  of  the  noblest  natures  to  turn  from  Christianity 
as  something  hateful  and  repugnant  to  that  which  is  truest 
and  most  profoundly  divine  in  man's  nature.  He  is  reli 
gious,  as  Jesus  was  religious,  wThich  is  not  saying  that  he 
would  be  welcomed  into  fashionable  conventional  churches 
to-day  any  more  than  Jesus  in  His  time  was  welcomed 
among  the  orthodox  religionists  of  Judaism. 

Here  is  a  fine  piece  of  work  which  might  be  termed 

A  Voice  in  the  Night. 

I  have  come,  and  the  world  shall  be  shaken 

Like  a  reed  at  the  touch  of  my  rod, 
And  the  kingdoms  of  Time  shall  awaken 

To  the  voice  and  the  summons  of  God; 
No  more  through  the  din  of  the  ages 

Shall  warnings  and  chidings  divine, 
From  the  lips  of  my  prophets  and  sages, 

Be  trampled  like  pearls  before  swine. 

Ye  have  stolen  my  lands  and  my  cattle; 

Ye  have  kept  back  from  labor  its  meed; 
Ye  have  challenged  the  outcasts  to  battle, 

When  they  plead  at  your  feet  in  their  need; 
And  when  clamors  of  hunger  grew  louder, 

And  the  multitudes  prayed  to  be  fed, 
Ye  have  answered  with  prisons  or  powder 

The  cries  of  your  brothers  for  bread. 

I  turn  from  your  altars  and  arches, 
And  the  mocking  of  steeples  and  domes, 

To  join  in  the  long,  weary  marches 
Of  the  ones  ye  have  robbed  of  their  homes; 


56  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas, 

I  share  in  the  sorrows  and  crosses 
Of  the  naked,  the  hungry  and  cold, 

And  dearer  to  me  are  their  losses 
Than  your  gains  and  your  idols  of  gold. 

I  will  wither  the  might  of  the  spoiler; 

I  will  laugh  at  your  dungeons  and  locks; 
The  tyrant  shall  yield  to  the  toiler, 

And  your  judges  eat  grass  like  the  ox; 
For  the  prayers  of  the  poor  have  ascended 

To  be  written  in  lightnings  on  high, 
And  the  wails  of  your  captives  have  blended 

With  the  bolts  that  must  leap  from  the  sky. 

The  thrones  of  your  kings  shall  be  shattered 

And  the  prisoner  and  serf  shall  go  free; 
I  will  harvest  from  seed  that  I  scattered 

On  the  borders  of  blue  Galilee; 
For  I  come  not  alone,  and  a  stranger — 

Lo!  my  reapers  will  sing  through  the  night 
Till  the  star  that  stood  over  the  manger 

Shall  cover  the  world  with  its  light. 


In  the  following  we  have  a  prophetic  picture,  and  with 
the  insight  of  a  true  prophet  Mr.  Clark  shows  that  the  dan 
ger  of  bloodshed  and  ruin  does  not  lie  where  the  paid  hire 
lings  of  plutocracy  are  ever  seeking  through  the  capitalistic 
press  to  make  the  masses  think  danger  lies;  the  supreme 
menace  of  liberty  no  less  than  of  justice  lies  primarily  where 
Mr.  Clark  points  it  out — in  the  citadel  of  lawless  and  con 
scienceless  wealth. 

The  Fall  of  New  Babylon. 

"Be  still,  and  know  that  T  am  God!" 

This  message  fell  distinct  and  low 
While  wealth,  with  steel  and  iron  shod, 

Crushed  out  the  cries  of  want  and  woe; 
And  from  the  scourged  and  bleeding  throng, 

As  if  to  the  end  the  age-long  tryst, 
With  eyes  rebuking  gilded  Wrong. 

Shone  forth  the  wondrous  face  of  Christ. 

Man  heeded  neither  voice  nor  look— 

For  Mammon's  vampires  asked  for  blood— 
And  what  were  signs  and  omens  took 

The  forms  of  conflict,  flame  and  flood: 
The  tempest  down  the  mountains  whHed; 

The  lightnings  danced  among  the  crags; 
And  far  below  the  breakers  curled 

And  raised  on  high  their  battle-flags. 


Hfter  Slits  Keats,  57 

The  ocean's  heart  wih  angry  beats- 
Swayed  by  the  earthquake's  fiery  breath- 
Uplifted  cities,  troops    and  fleets 

And  hurled  them  down  to  wreck  and  death; 
Then  rose  the  death-yell  of  the  Old— 
The  old,  dark  Age  of  ruthless  gain, 
Of  crouching  thieves  and  warriors  bold 
Who  slew  the  just  and  robbed  the  slain. 

For  he  who  led  the  hordes  of  Night — 

The  Monarchs  of  marauding  bands- 
Went  down  before  the  Sword  of  Light 

That  flashed  upon  the  plundered  lands; 
And  stretched  upon  his  mighty  bier, 

With  broken  helmet  on  his  head, 
And  hands  still  clutching  brand  and  spear, 

The  King  at  last  lay  prone  and  dead. 

The  birds  of  conquest  o'er  him  swooped 

In  baffled  rage  and  terror  wild; 
The  silent  Fates  around  him  stooped 

To  deck  with  flowers  their  fallen  child; 
And  where  the  powers  of  shore  and  wave 

Together  clashed  in  border  wars, 
With  systems  piled  upon  his  grave, 

They  left  the  meteor-son  of  Mars. 

The  cruel  rule  of  craft  and  pelf 

Had  vanished  like  a  midnight  pall; 
The  cold,  hard  motto,  "Each  for  Self," 

Had  melted  into  "Each  for  All." 
For  every  human  ear  and  heart 

Had  heard  the  message,  "Peace,  be  still!" 
And  sought  through  Freedom's  highest  art 

For  oneness  with  the  Perfect  Will. 

The  star  of  strife  had  ceased  to  reign, 

And  Venus  woke  with  tender  grace 
Between  the  lids  of  sky  and  main 

And  smiled  upon  a  nobler  race; 
And  as  a  brute  foregoes  its  prize 

And  cowers  before  the  gaze  of  day, 
With  backward  look  from  baleful  eyes 

The  wolf  of  Usury  slunk  away. 

From  ocean  rim  to  mountain  height 

All  Nature  sang  of  glad  release; 
The  waters  danced  in  wild  delight 

And  waved  a  million  flags  of  peace; 
For  he  who  held  the  world  in  thrall 

Through  greed  and  fraud  and  power  of  gold, 
Had  seen  the  "writing  on  the  wall," 

And  died  like  Babylon's  King  of  old. 

When  the  wealth-producers  of  the  nation  learn  that  the 
welfare  of  ail  is  more  important  than  the  selfish  interests 


persons,  places  anfc  H^eas. 

of  a  few  petty  men  who  divide  industry  into  warring 
and  by  the  aid  of  demagogues  who  secretly  serve  the  gold 
I»ower.  prevent  the  concerted  action  of  all  wealth-pro 
ducers;  when  the  toilers  come  to  understand  that  if  they 
unite  but  one?  and  speak  at  the  ballot-box,  the  power  of 
plutocracy  will  be  broken  and  the  dawn  of  a  truer  deaio*-- 
racy  than  the  world  has  ever  known  will  become  an  accom 
plished  fact;  when  the  breadwinners  of  earth  realize  that 
the  man  who  urges  them  not  to  actively  enter  poli 
tics  is  in  reality  the  most  valiant  voice  that  the  despot 
ism  of  avarice  and  greed  can  invoke,  then  we  shall  have 
reached  a  point  where  the  rule  of  the  few  will  vanish  and 
the  laws  of  equal  justice  will  be  felt  throughout  all  the  rami 
fications  of  government.  This  is  the  supreme  lesson  for 
labor  to  learn.  Karl  Marx  appreciated  it,  and  the  most  far- 
seeing,  single-hearted  apostles  of  humanity  since  his  day 
have  insisted  upon  it.  Toilers  everywhere,  unite — your 
hope  lies  in  union;  know  no  creed,  party,  nation,  or  race. 
Let  humanity  be  your  family,  and  justice  your  guiding  star. 
The  motto  of  the  American  Railway  Union  breathes  the 
spirit  of  this  new  slogan,  and  Mr.  Clark,  quick  to  appreciate 
its  significance,  penned  these  lines  suggested  by  the  motto 

"All  for  One  and  Ome  for  AIL" 

All  for  one  and  one  for  alL 

With  an  endless  sons:  and  sweep. 
So  the  billows  rise  and  fall 

On  the  bosom  of  the  deep: 
Loader  in  their  single  speech. 

More  resistless  as  they  roll. 
Broader,  higher  in  their  reach 

Ft«r  their  union  with  the  whole. 

Wheeling  systems  sink  and  rise. 

In  one  shoreless  universe. 
And  forever  down  the  skies 

Myriad  stars  one  hymn  rehearse; 
Countless  worlds  salme  the  son. 

Planets  to  each  other  can. 
Ases  into  cycles  run. 

AD  for  one  and  one  for  all. 

Kissed  by  sunshine,  dew  and  shower. 

Leaping:  rill  and  living  sod. 
Sea  and  mountain,  tree  and  flower 

Turn  their  faces  up  to  God: 
And  one  human  Brotherhood. 

Pulsing  through  a  thousand  lands, 
Benches  for  one  common  pood 

With  its  minion,  million  hands. 


Hfter  Silts  ]£ears*  59 

Through  all  warring  seas  of  life 

One  vast  current  sunward  rolls, 
And  within  all  outward  strife, 

One  eternal  Right  controls,— 
Right,  at  whose  divine  command 

Slaves  go  free  and  tyrants  fall, 
In  the  might  of  those  who  stand 

All  for  one  and  one  for  all. 

Legislation  is  very  largely  responsible  for  the  multi-mill 
ionaires  of  this  republic,  while  special  privileges  of  some 
kind  or  another  have  in  almost  all  instances  with  which  I  am 
acquainted  been  the  creators  or  the  chief  feeders  of  the 
colossal  fortunes  in  our  midst.  It  would  therefore  seem 
very  clear  that  to  minify  the  dangers  which  all  thoughtful 
people  admit  to-day  threaten  the  republic  through  the  influ 
ence  of  plutocracy,  it  will  be  necessary  to  abolish  special 
privilege  and  class  legislation.  This,  moreover,  is 
demanded  by  the  quickened  conscience  of  the  times,  because 
it  meets  the  requirements  of  justice.  If  government  has  any 
legislative  function  it  is  to  foster  justice  and  extend  as  far  as 
possible  the  prosperity,  happiness  and  advancement  of  all 
the  people,  instead  of  lending  its  influence  to  a  few  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  enable  them  to  enslave  the  man^. 

Furthermore,  if,  as  can  be  clearly  demonstrated,  the  gov 
ernment  has  by  grants  and  privileges  rendered  possible  the 
acquiring  of  untold  millions  by  a  few  of  the  people  who  have 
been  the  beneficiaries  of  these  privileges,  it  is  not  so  absurd 
or  idiotic  as  the  mouthpieces  of  the  government-fostered 
plutocracy  wrould  have  us  believe,  to  insist  that  the  power 
which  has  heretofore  been  exerted  by  the  government  for 
the  aggrandizement  and  benefit  of  the  few,  be  henceforth 
exerted  impartially  toward  all  the  citizens  of  the  republic, 
and  that  the  enormous  disparity  of  fortunes  resulting  from 
iniquitous  class  legislation  and  partial  and  therefore 
vicious  governmental  paternalism  be  in  a  measure  righted 
by  a  graduated  income  tax  and  a  rigid  inheritance  tax; 
these  claims  of  industry  are  eminently  just,  and  were  it  not 
for  the  tremendous  power  already  exerted  by  the  usurer 
class,  they  would  scarcely  be  called  in  question;  but  the 
gold  of  wealth  is  liberally  expended  to  uphold  the  tyranny 
of  capitalism,  and  there  always  have  been  and  doubtless 
for  many  generations  to  come  will  be  men  who  will  act  as 
sophists  in  upholding  injustice  and  befogging  the  minds  of 
people  who  have  never  learned  to  think  independently; 
hence  the  urgent  need  of  the  sincere  and  conscientious 
prophets,  poets  and  reformers. 


GO  persons,  places  anfc  fffceas* 

The  following  poem  of  Mr.  Clark  will  awaken  tin  echo  in 
thousands  of  the  most  earnest  hearts  of  our  land  wrho  long 
to  join  in  the  songs  of  the  happy,  but  who  hear  so  clearly 
the  cries  of  the  victims  under  the  wheels  that  their  hearts 
grow  heavy  and  their  voices  fail  to  utter  a  sound  in  the 
chorus  of  joy. 

A  Song  of  the  Period. 

"Oh!  weave  us  a  bright  and  cheerful  rhyme, 

Of  our  land  where  the  fig  tree  grows, 
And  the  air  is  sweet  in  the  New-Year  time 

With  the  breath  of  the  new-born  rose." 
This  message  fell  while  the  engine  roared 

By  the  wharf  at  the  city's  feet 
Where  the  white-winged  birds  of  trade  lay  moored 

In  a  vast,  unnumbered  fleet. 

It  filled  my  ears  as  we  moved  away, 

And  the  iron  wheels  rolled  on 
From  the  noisy  town  and  the  sobbing  bay 

To  the  wilds  of  Oregon, — 
Where  the  mountain  cloud  and  the  mossy  sod 

Are  kissed  by  the  self -same  rills, 
And  the  torrents  beat  like  the  pulse  of  God 

In  the  hearts  of  the  ancient  hills. 

And  I  sung  of  the  broad  and  generous  fields 
That  were  fresh  with  a  promise  rare; 

Of  the  mother-breast  that  sweetly  yields 
All  life  to  the  people's  prayer. 

But  my  soul  grew  sad  with  a  minor  tone 
From  the  souls  of  the  outcast  poor 

Who  begged  for  work— and  received  a  stone- 
As  they  tramped  o'er  the  lonely  moor. 

Then  T  thought  of  the  land  whose  faith  was  sealed 

By  the  blood  of  the  brave  and  great, 
Of  the  strong,  fierce  bird  and  the  starry  shield 

That  guarded  the  halls  of  state; 
But  the  Fagle  watched  o'er  the  idle  gold 

That  was  heaped  on  the  rich  man's  floor. 
While  the  gaunt  wolf  leered  at  the  toiler's  fold 

And  howled  by  the  poor  man's  door. 

I  cannot  join  the  old-time  friends 

Tn  their  merry  games  and  sports 
While  the  pleading  wail  of  the  poor  ascends 

To  the  Judge  of  the  Upper  Courts; 
And  I  cannot  sing  the  glad,  free  songs 

That  the  world  around  me  sings 
While  my  fellows  move  in  cringing  throngs 

At  the  beck  of  the  gilded  kings. 


Hfter  Siit     )ears,  ci 


The  scales  hang  low  from  the  open  skies— 

That  have  weighed  them,  one  and  all— 
And  the  fiery  letters  gleam  and  rise 

O'er  the  feast  in  the  Palace  Hall, 
But  my  lighter  lays  shall  slumber  on 

The  boughs  of  the  willow  tree 
Till  the  King  is  slain  in  Babylon, 

And  the  captive  hosts  go  free. 

I  will  close  this  paper  with  one  of  the  finest  and  noblest 
poetic  creations  which  our  silver-headed  prophet-poet  of 
the  people  has  composed  since  he  passed  beyond  his  sixtieth 
year.  It  is  brave,  bold  and  severe,  as  the  articulate  voice 
of  justice  is  wont  to  be,  when  confronting  injustice,  but 
through  it,  as  through  all  this  poet's  writings,  we  note  the 
presence  of  that  abiding  faith  which  is  entertained  by  those 
who  believe,  nay  more,  wrho  know  that  man  is  fronting  the 
dawn,  and  that  eternal  justice  broods  over  the  world. 

Justice  to  "Liberty  Enlightening  tlic  IVorld" 

O  Liberty!  whose  searching  eyes 

Are  fixed  upon  the  distant  blue- 
As  if  to  pierce  the  veil  that  lies 

Betwixt  the  Old  World  and  the  New— 
What  seekest  thou  in  other  climes, 

And  isles  that  gem  the  salt  sea  foam? 
What  findest  thou  of  woes  and  crimes 

That  dwell  not  in  thy  chosen  home? 

Child  of  the  rainbow  and  the  star, 

Around  whose  path  the  whirlwind  sings, 
Recall  thine  eagles  from  afar 

And  answer  to  my  questionings! 
Call  down  thy  colors  from  the  clouds 

And  nail  them  o'er  the  city  marts, 
And  let  thy  beacon  cheer  the  crowds 

Of  darkened  lives  and  weary  hearts. 

"And  what  art  thou?  to  question  one 

Whose  impulse  every  bosom  warms, 
Whose  eagles  soar  athwart  the  sun. 

And  rock  their  young  upon  the  storms; 
And  who  art  thou?  to  ask  me  why 

I  stand  upon  the  Now  World  strands 
And  bid  my  eagles  outward  fly 

To  probe  the  ills  of  other  lands!" 

Men  call  me  "Love"  when  —  bonding  down  — 

I  kiss  the  tears  from  sorrow's  face, 
And  "Mercy"  when  I  change  the  frown 

Of  judgment  to  a  smile  of  grace; 
They  call  me  "Justice"  when  I  shift 

The  weak  man's  burdens  to  the  strong. 
But  "Vengeance"  when  my  earthquakes  lift 

The  tidal  waves  that  drown  the  wrong. 


62  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas< 

I  fix  the  headland  bounds  of  Fate 

Against  which  Error  frets  in  Tain; 
I  watch  by  Truth's  eternal  gate, 

And  balance  every  loss  and  gain; 
I  hover  o'er  the  Lethean  deep 

Where  Progress  mourns  her  murdered  braves, 
I  touch  the  waters  where  they  sleep, 

And  lo!  they  wake  from  honored  graves. 

The  empty  boasts  of  power  and  pelf 

Like  fleeting  vapors  round  me  meet; 
The  star  of  destiny  itself 

Climbs  from  the  throne  to  reach  my  feet; 
The  nations  poise  upon  my  scales 

Like  cloudlets  on  the  midday  air; 
I  stand  erect  where  Empire  fails, 

And  wait  serene  amidst  despair. 

"O!  thou  whose  fire-winged  word  descends 

Like  lightning  from  unclouded  zones— 
At  whose  decree  oppression  ends, 

And  despots  tremble  on  their  thrones— 
I  bow  to  thy  divining  life 

Which  every  perfect  life  fulfils: 
My  warring  factions  cease  from  strife, 

My  thunders  die  among  the  hills. 

"Full  well  I  know  the  deeds  of  shame 

That  nations  in  my  name  have  done, 
Whose  record  lingers  on  my  fame 

Like  spots  upon  the  morning  sun; 
But  while  my  conquering  legions  stand 

With  sabres  sheathed  and  banners  furled, 
Pray  tell  me  of  my  chosen  band 

Wrhose  star  and  torch  illume  the  world." 

I  see  a  land  so  broad  and  fair — 

So  free  from  titled  lords  and  kings — 
That  all  the  tribes  seek  refuge  there 

As  young  birds  seek  the  mother-wings; 
The  fig-tree,  orange,  grape,  and  palm 

Grow  wild  upon  her  southern  plains, 
Where  summer  breezes  drift  in  balm, 

And  blooms  caress  the  winter  rains. 
The  oceans  of  the  east  and  west 

Along  her  borders  laugh  and  roar; 
The  mountains  sleep  upon  her  breast. 

And  vast  lakes  down  her  north  lines  pour. 

I  see  a  nation  half  in  chains; 

The  mingled  blood  of  all  the  earth 
Is  surging  through  her  fevered  veins. 

And  striving  for  a  nobler  birth; 
The  New  World's  warp,  the  Old  World's  web 

In  all  her  garments  come  and  go, 
While  from  her  life  the  old  taints  ebb 

And  new  ones  rush  with  fiercer  flow; 


Htter  Silts  Kears,  63 

Her  snowy  sails,  her  keels  and  helms 

Go  forth  with  stores  of  fruit  and  bread 
To  all  the  kingdoms,  climes,  and  realms 

Where  man  is  asking  to  be  fed. 

Her  star-crowned  head  proclaims  the  light 

That  seers  and  poets  long  have  sung, 
Her  feet  and  skirts  are  wrapped  in  night 

Where  Wrong  is  old  and  Hope  is  young; 
No  more  the  lion  treads  her  coast 

In  war's  red  pomp  and  force  arrayed; 
He  leads  a  far  more  cruel  host 

That  plunders  by  the  laws  of  trade. 

Her  soldier  band,  whose  sabre  stroke 

Released  from  bonds  four  million  lives, 
Are  burdened  by  a  usurer's  yoke 

More  galling  than  the  black  man's  gyves; 
Though  gone  the  auction  block  of  old, 

The  soul  of  slavery  lingers  still; 
The  chains  are  forged  of  power  and  gold 

To  bind  the  white  serf's  brain  and  will. 

The  poor  man,  robbed  of  lands  he  earned, 

Goes  wandering  homeless  o'er  the  moor; 
And  eagles,  into  vultures  turned, 

Stand  guard  beside  the  rich  man's  door; 
The  masses  move  with  fettered  feet; 

The  classes  feast  on  Labor's  toil, 
The  eagles  with  the  lions  meet, 

To  gather  and  divide  the  spoil. 

I  am  not  blind;  I  see  and  feel, 

While  Mammon  rules  the  broad  domain, 
And  stretches  forth  his  hand  to  steal 

The  garnered  sheaves  of  ripened  grain. 
I  am  not  deaf,  I  am  not  dead. 

Though  mercy  groans  in  travail  pain, 
While  chartered  Murder  rears  its  head, 

And  children  wail  for  fathers  slain. 

No  longer  shall  my  arm  be  stayed, 

No  more  my  trumpet  call  retreat 
When  Truth,  by  lying  lips  betrayed, 

Is  dragged  before  the  judgment  seat; 
The  line  is  crossed,  the  doom  draws  nigh; 

Lo!  Justice  wakes  with  lifted  hand 
To  write  her  mandate  in  the  sky, 

And  not  upon  the  shifting  sand. 

"But  Justice,  listen;  and  behold; 

My  star  upon  the  darkness  gleams, 
My  upraised  torch  has  not  grown  cold; 

The  world  is  moaning  in  her  dreams; 
In  dreams  of  grander  conflicts  won. 

She  yearns  for  freedom,  light  and  air; 
And  can  the  child  of  Washington 

Be  dumb  to  her  unanswered  prayer?" 


persons,  places  ano  11  Seas, 

The  ages  cannot  pause  to  wait 

The  counter-moves  of  Mammon's  horde, 
While  Labor  lingers  at  the  gate 

To  beg  the  crumbs  from  Dives'  board; 
The  world  shall  onward,  sunward  swing 

Till  torch  and  star  are  merged  in  light, 
And  all  the  nations  rise  and  sing 

Their  triumph  o'er  the  powers  of  night. 

I  see  a  mighty  feast  outspread, 

Where  gilded  Lords  their  honors  wear; 
The  banquet  king  sits  at  their  head; 

The  guests  are  drunk  on  vintage  rare; 
And  far  below  on  every  side, 

No  more  by  cringing  fear  subdued, 
And  murmuring  like  a  rising  tide, 

I  see  the  countless  multitude. 

As  rivers  to  the  ocean  roll, 

All  tongues  and  races  join  the  throng, 
One  purpose  burning  in  each  soul, 

And  on  their  lips  a  single  song; 
One  common  cause,  one  flag  unfurled, 

They  kneel  to  neither  king  nor  chni; 
Their  country  is  the  round,  wide  world, 

Their  creed  the  brotherhood  of  man. 

The  feast  goes  on;  the  proud  rejoice; 

They  hear  a  sound  of  distant  waves; 
They  think  it  but  the  torrent's  voice 

Complaining  through  the  highland  caves; 
It  is  ho  mountain  stream,  that  leaps 

Rebellious  from  its  rocky  bands; 
It  is  the  lifting  of  the  deeps, 

The  sinking  of  the  ancient  lands. 

Resistless  as  the  pulse  of  doom, 

The  ocean  swings  from  shore  to  shore; 
And  frightened  kings  flit  through  the  gloom, 

Like  stars  that  fall  to  rise  no  more. 
The  high  sea-walls  of  caste  are  gone. 

The  pent-up  floods  their  chains  have  burst, 
The  toilers  face  the  golden  dawn, 

The  first  are  last,  the  last  are  first. 

The  Old  goes  -down,  the  New  ascends, 

Its  sunny  isles  in  glory  rise; 
A  rainbow  o'er  the  deluge  bends, 

And  Labor's  curse  dissolves  and  dies; 
The  gods  of  gold  no  more  hold  sway, 

The  people  bow  to  truth  alone, 
And  He  whose  voice  the  tides  obey 

Remains  forever  with  His  own. 


H  (Slimpse  of  an  ®K> 
IRoman  Centre  of  Culture  in  (Sreat  Britain. 


Chester  is  unique  among  English  cities.  Much  of  its  archi 
tecture  reminds  one  of  continental  Europe,  contrasting  in  a 
most  striking  manner  with  the  prosaic  modern  buildings,  while 
the  picturesque  ruins  of  once  massive  Norman  edifices  attract 
the  eye  and  cause  the  mind  to  revert  to  that  sturdy  though 
savage  people  who  played  so  important  a  part  in  laying  the 
foundation  for  modern  England's  glory  and  supremacy.  It  is, 
moreover,  the  only  city  in  Great  Britain  where  the  traveller 
finds  preserved  without  a  break  or  gap  the  ancient  walls  which 
characterize  the  strongholds  of  mediaeval  civilization. 

Perhaps  nothing  will  arrest  the  attention  of  the  stranger  at 
first  sight  so  much  as  the  striking  contrasts  which  meet  his 
view  on  every  hand.  Here  the  new  jostles  against  the  old. 
One  sees  grim  poverty,  grime,  and  squalor,  which  is  the  shame 
of  modern  civilization,  almost  under  the  shadow  of  that  concen 
trated  wealth  which  is  the  pride  and  boast  of  shallow  conven 
tionalism;  here  tram-cars  covered  and  bedecked  with  monstrous- 
and  unsightly  advertising  boards,  which  would  amaze  if  they 
did  not  chagrin  the  thrifty  Yankee  pill-maker  and  soap-manu 
facturer,  run  close  beside  ancient  buildings  of  curious  archi 
tecture  and  rich  in  historic  interest;  and  here  also  one  steps, 
from  the  modern  steam  launches  which  ply  the  River  Dee,  and 
in  half  a  minute's  walk  finds  himself  under  the  ivy-tapestried 
walls  of  the  venerable  ruins  of  the  Church  of  St.  John  the  Bap 
tist,  or  beside  the  solid  masonry  of  the  ancient  city  walls. 

But  perhaps  no  one  finds  so  much  genuine  interest  in  this, 
quaint  old  town  as  the  student  of  history,  for  the  story  of 
Chester  stretches  back  until  it  is  lost  in  the  mists  of  tradition, 
and  it  has  been  the  theatre  of  so  many  memorable  struggles  in 
the  history  of  England,  that  turn  where  you  will,  you  sre  ob- 

65 


66 


persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas, 


BISHOP  LLOYD'S  HOUSE.     SEE  PAGE  79. 

tre,  in  the  marches  of  Englonde, 
towards  Wales,  betwegne  two 
arms  of  the  see,  that  bee  named 
Dee  and  Mersee.  Thys  cy  te  in 
tyme  of  Britons,  was  hede  and 
chyefe  cyte  of  all  Venedocia, 
that  is,  North  Wales.  Thys 
cyte  in  Brytyshe  spech  bete 
Carthleon,  Chestre  in  Eng- 
lyshe,  and  Cyte  of  Legyons 
also.  For  there  laye  a  wynter 
the  legyons  that  Julius  Cezar 
sent  for  to  wyne  Irlonde.  And 
after,  Claudius  Cezar  sent  le 
gyons  out  of  the  cyte  for  to 
wynn  the  Islands  that  be  called 
Orcades.  Thys  cyte  hath 
plente  of  lyve  land,  of  corn, 


jects  which  call  up 
the  rude  freedom  of 
the  ancient  Britons, 
the  refined  luxury  of 
the  long  vanished 
civilization  of  the 
Roman  era,  or  the 
tempestuous  strug 
gles  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

According  to  tra 
dition  this  city  was  a 
place  of  importance 
long  before  the  Ro 
mans  made  it  one  of 
the  strongest  posts 
in  ancient  Albion. 
In  the  curious  chro 
nicles  of  the  monk 
Ranulph  Higden, 
published  in  1495, 
we  find  the  following 
allusion  to  Chester  in 
quaint  old  English 
phraseology : 

"  The  cyte  of  Le 
gyons,  that  is  Ches- 


A   ROMAN  ALTAR  FOUND   IN  EXCAVATION 
IN  CHESTER  DURING  PRESENT  CENTURY. 


67 


of  flesh,  and  specy- 
allyofsamon.  Thys 
cyte  recey  veth  grate 
marchandyse,  and 
sendeth  out  also. 
Northumbres  des 
troyed  this  cyte 
sometyme,  but  El- 
fleda,  Lady  of  Mer- 
cia,  bylded  it  again, 
and  made  it  mouch 
more. 

"  In  thys  cyte  ben 
ways  under  erth, 
with  vowtes  and 
stone  werke,  won 
derfully  wrought, 
three  chambered 
workes,  grete  stones 
ingrave  with  old 
mannes  namesthere- 
in.  Thys  is  that 
cyte  that  Ethel- 
f rede,  Kyng  of  Nor- 
thumberlonde,  des 
troyed,  and  slonghe 
there  fast  by  nygh 
two  thousand  monks 
of  the  mynster  of  Banger.  Thys  is  the  cyte  that  Kyng  Edgar 
came  to,  some  tyme,  with  seven  Kyngs  that  were  subject  to 
hym." 

The  tradition  of  this  worthy  monk,  however,  lacks  historical 
confirmation,  and  it  is  not  until  the  Roman  conquest  that  we 
have  authentic  data  regarding  Chester.  Some  conception  of 
the  size  and  importance  of  this  place  after  the  famous  Twentieth 
Legion  had  become  well  established  on  the  Dee,  may  be  gained 
from  the  Roman  ruins  which  excavations  of  the  present  century 
have  brought  to  light;  among  these  are  the  ruins  of  a  Roman 
bath  and  forum  and  numerous  excellently  engraved  altars,  to 
gether  with  fragments  of  architecture  which  speak  of  wealth, 
refinement,  and  culture,  surprising  to  contemplate  when  we  re 
member  how  remote  was  the  wonderful  little  city  from  the  great 
pulsating  heart  of  Rome. 

History  indicates  that  the  dazzling  spectacle  of  the  southern 
conquerors,  their  superior  civilization  and  far-reaching  knowl 
edge,  no  less  than  the  consideration  accorded  those  of  their 


THE  OLD  STANLEY  PALACE.   SEE  PAGE  79. 


69 

conquered  foes  who  cheerfully  yielded  to  the  foreign  yoke, 
together  with  the  order  established  and  justice  meted  out,  cap 
tivated  many  of  the  British  chieftains,  who  made  haste  to  form 
as  close  an  alliance  as  possible  with  their  splendid  conquerors, 
adopting  the  Roman  language,  customs,  and  dress,  and  becom 
ing  practically  the  willing  vassals  of  Roman  authority.  For 
almost  four  centuries  the  eagles  of  the  Empire  were  raised  aloft 
on  British  soil,  and  during  this  period  the  Romans  on  numer 
ous  occasions  successfully  repulsed  the  invasions  of  the  fierce 
northern  tribes  and  in  various  ways  protected  the  British,  much 
to  their  ultimate  injury,  as  succeeding  events  proved,  for  the 
British  lost  that  magnificent  independence,  that  sturdiness  and 
self-reliance,  which  had  previously  made  it  difficult  for  even  the 
trained  legions  of  the  Caesars  to  overcome  them.  They  came  to 
lean  as  implicitly  on  the  strong  arm  of  their  conquerors  as  our 
slaves  before  the  war  were  wont  to  look  to  their  masters  for 
protection  and  direction.  In  a  word,  they  exchanged  their 
old-time  independent  spirit  for  that  of  the  child  or  the  slave. 

It  is  always  perilous  for  an  individual,  a  nation,  or  a  race  to 
step  at  a  single  bound  from  a  savage  to  a  civilized  condition ; 
for  the  law  of  life  is  the  law  of  growth,  and  until  the  ethical  or 
spiritual  nature  has  been  in  a  degree  matured,  those  things  which 
come  as  fruits  of  evolutionary  development  are  liable  to  prove  of 
irreparable  injury;  and  this  sudden  transition  on  the  part  of  the 
Britons,  lacking  the  element  of  gradual  growth  which  gives 
strength  and  permanency,  offers  a  melancholy  illustration  of 
this  fact.  They  became  enervated  and  gr'&w  to  be  servile  imi 
tators  of  their  masters,  and  after  the  Romans  left  Britain  his 
tory  indicates  that  Romano-Britons  rapidly  relapsed  into  semi- 
barbarism  without  regaining  their  old-time  daring  or  the 
power  of  initiative  and  leadership.  But  we  have  been  anticipat 
ing  events. 

Returning  to  Chester  we  find  that  for  more  than  three  centuries 
following  the  arrival  of  the  Twentieth  Legion  the  city  grew  in 
size  and  importance,  and  had  Rome  remained  healthy  or  even 
continued  to  possess  to  a  fair  degree  the  vigor  of  early  days,  the 
probabilities  are  that  in  time  the  whole  of  Great  Britain  would 
have  come  under  the  rule  of  the  amalgamated  races  and  the 
civilization  of  Albion  would  have  suffered  no  eclipse.  But  fate 
willed  it  otherwise,  and  at  length  the  hour  came  when  the  can 
cer  of  corruption  which  had  long  been  eating  into  the  vitals  of 
the  mistress  of  the  world  wrought  the  ruin  which  generations 
before  had  been  foreseen  and  predicted  by  the  noblest  Roman 
philosophers.  In  a  fatal  hour  the  mask  of  Mars  and  the  mantle 
of  Jupiter  fell,  and  lo !  instead  of  invincible  power  and  incar 
nate  majesty,  nothing  remained  but  a  decrepit,  disease-eaten 


PHCENIX    TOWER    FROM    THE    CANAL.      IT  WAS    FROM    THIS    TOWER    THAT  KING  CHARLES 
WITNESSED  THE  DEFEAT  OF  HIS  FORCES  AT  ROWTON   MOOR. 


71 

form,  incapable  of  self-government  because  wanting  in  moral 
worth,  courage  and  self-reliance,  and  necessitating  the  sum 
moning  of  the  Roman  legions  from  remote  quarters  to  Italian 
soil. 

It  was  a  sad  day  for  Britain  when  the  last  of  the  Romans 
quitted  her  shores,  for  with  the  departure  of  the  soldiers,  the 
flower  of  the  young  Romano-Britons  also  embarked  in  quest  of 
fame,  glory  and  gold ;  while  the  Picts  and  Scots  immediately 
began  their  incursions  from  the  North.  Very  pitiful  were  the 
petitions  of  the  Britons  for  succor,  but  Rome  was  unable  to 
aid  them  longer,  and  the  memorable  plea  entitled  "  The  Groans 
of  the  Britons"  failed  to  bring  any  material  aid  from  their  old- 
time  conquerors.  In  their  extremity  the  terrified  and  enervated 
sons  of  Albion  turned  to  the  sturdy  Jutes  for  help.  The  suc 
cor  was  readily  extended,  the  invaders  were  driven  back,  but 
the  allies  were  as  much  impressed  with  the  rich  heritage  of 
Roman  civilization  as  they  were  struck  with  the  effeminacy  of 
the  Britons;  they  determined  to  become  possessors  of  so  goodly 
a  land,  and  brutal  conflicts  ensued  which  ended  in  Anglo-Saxon 
supremacy. 

Chester  was  one  of  the  spots  most  coveted  by  the  Teutonic 
conquerors,  but  the  Britons  defended  it  with  far  more  spirit 
than  was  their  wont.  It  was  therefore  the  theatre  for  many 
bloody  conflicts,  and  in  607,  when  ^Ethelfrith  marched  upon 
Chester,  the  Britons  were  defeated  in  one  of  the  most  desperate 
engagements  of  this  bloody  period.  The  battle  was  fought  a 
short  distance  from  the  city  and  is  memorable  for  the  slaughter 
of  twelve  hundred  unarmed  monks.  The  story  of  this  massacre 
is  thus  graphically  described  by  the  historian  Green  : 

"  Hard  by  the  city  two  thousand  monks  were  gathered  in  one 
of  those  vast  religious  settlements  which  were  characteristic  of 
Celtic  Christianity,  and  after  a  three  days'  fast  a  crowd  of  these 
ascetics  followed  the  British  army  to  the  field.  ^Ethelfrith 
watched  the  wild  gestures  of  the  monks  as  they  stood  apart  from 
the  host  with  arms  stretched  in  prayer,  and  bade  his  men  slay 
them  in  the  coming  fight.  '  Bear  they  arms  or  no,'  said  the 
king,  4  they  war  against  us  when  they  cry  against  us  to  their 
God ' ;  and  in  the  surprise  and  rout  which  followed  the  monks 
were  the  first  to  fall." 

Chester  was  one  of  the  last  strongholds  of  strategic  and  com 
mercial  importance  to  fall  before  the  Saxon  power,  as  at  a  later 
day  it  was  the  last  English  city  of  consequence  to  bow  to  the 
Norman  conqueror. 

The  Saxons  were  not  long  permitted  to  enjoy  in  peace  the  land 
that  they  had  thus  ruthlessly  seized.  The  dauntless,  strong- 
limbed,  red-haired  Danes  lighted  upon  England  and  swept  the 


73 


coast  upon  all  sides.  These  children  of  Mars  and  Neptune,  who 
were  characterized  by  their  ferocity  and  fearlessness,  took  pos 
session  of  Chester  in  the  year  894.  They,  however,  only  held  it 
for  a  short  time.  In  907  Ethelred,  Earl  of  Mercia,  aided  by  his 
illustrious  wife  Ethelfleda, 
the  daughter  of  Alfred  the 
Great,  restored  and  so  en 
larged  the  walls  of  Chester 
that  they  embraced  the 
castle  which  had  hitherto 
stood  without  the  city.  This 
indicates  that  the  castle  was 
a  fortress  of  importance  long 
before  the  days  of  Earl  Hugh 
Lupus,  who  repaired  and 
added  to  it  instead  of  build 
ing  it  as  some  writers  have 
assumed.  Ethelfleda  was  a 
woman  of  great  strength  of 
mind  and  executive  ability, 
and  from  the  fragmentary 
testimony  of  the  ancient 
chroniclers,  who  were  ever 
loath  to  exaggerate  the 
abilities  of  women,  we  are 
led  to  believe  that  she  in 
herited  many  of  the  noble 
qualities  of  her  illustrious 
father.  It  appears  that, 
largely  from  her  influence, 
the  city  regained  some  of  its 
old  prestige,  and  it  was  not 
until  some  time  after  her 
death  that  it  ceased  for  a 
time  to  be  a  Saxon  strong 
hold. 

In  the  early  seventies  of 
the  tenth  century  King 
Edgar  occupied  the  city  of 
Chester,  and  his  fleet  is  said 
to  have  filled  the  River 
Dee.  Edgar,  it  will  be 

remembered,  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  the  Saxon 
kings,  even  winning  the  title  of  "  King  of  English  and  all 
of  the  nations  round  about."  According  to  a  generally 
accepted  tradition  eight  British  kings  or  chieftains  came  to 


GOD'S  PROVIDENCE  HOUSE.   SEE  PAGE  79. 


74 


persons,  places  ant)  Hfceas. 


Chester  to  do  him  homage.  During  their  stay  they  rowed 
him  on  the  River  Dee.  Edgar  was  small  of  stature,  and 
one  night  after  this  episode,  and  while  the  chieftains  were  still 
at  Edgar's  court,  one  of  their  numbers,  a  Scotch  king  named 
Kenneth,  who  had  drunk  somewhat  deeply,  exclaimed,  "  How  is 
it  that  all  of  us,  so  many  kings  as  we  are,  should  serve  a  king 
who  is  smaller  than  any  of  us  ?  "  This  gossip  was  promptly 


A   PART  OF  THE   R 


carried  to  Edgar,  who  heard  it  in  silence,  but  soon  afterwards 
requested  Kenneth  to  accompany  him  to  a  forest  near  at  hand. 
Arriving,  the  king  produced  two  swords,  and  handing  them  to 
the  Scottish  chieftain  said,  "  Choose  whichever  weapon  you  de 
sire  to  use,  and  let  us  see  which  is  the  better  man."  Kenneth, 
however,  refused  to  fight,  protesting  that  he  spake  only  in  jest 
and  because  he  was  under  the  influence  of  wine. 

After   the   Saxons  were   overpowered   by  the  Normans,  the 
Conqueror  created  the  earldom  of  Chester  and  gave  it  to  his 


nephew  Hugh  Lupus,  who  repaired  the  castle  and  established  a 
court  much  after  the  manner  of  the  petty  kings  of  that 
period. 

Many  indeed  are  the  interesting  happenings  connected  with 
this  quaint  old  place  since  the  days  when  William  the  Conqueror 
triumphantly  entered  her  walls  after  his  terrible  march.  But  the 
most  memorable  historic  event  connected  with  Chester  did  not 
take  place  until  long  after  the  Normans  and  Saxons  had  amalga 
mated  and  the  modern  English  nation  rose  as  the  legitimate  result 
of  this  union. 

When  Charles  the  First  and  the  English  Parliament  came  to 
a  direct  issue  Chester  ardently  espoused  the  cause  of  the  king, 
and  in  the  autumn  of  1642  Charles  was  warmly  welcomed 
within  the  city  walls.  After  his  departure  vigorous  work  was 
at  once  inaugurated  for  offensive  and  defensive  warfare.  The 
royal  troops  under  the  command  of  Sir  Nicholas  Byron  were 
loyally  supported  by  the  citizens.  The  walls  were  strengthened 
and  active  preparations  were  begun,  looking  toward  a  possible 
siege.  In  1643  the  city  was  fiercely  assaulted  by  the  Parliamen 
tary  army,  but  the  result  proved  far  more  disastrous  to  the  be 
siegers  than  the  besieged,  and  from  this  time  until  1645  many 
futile  attempts  were  made  to  take  the  city  by  storm.  On  the 
twenty-seventh  of  September  King  Charles,  accompanied  by  his 
guards,  effected  an  entrance  into  Chester,  where  he  was  enthusi 
astically  received ;  but  on  that  same  fateful  day  the  king,  accom 
panied  by  the  mayor  and  other  notables,  ascended  the  stairs  to 
the  summit  of  what  is  now  called  Phoenix  Tower,  where  they 
witnessed  the  disastrous  defeat  of  the  royal  forces  under  Sir 
Marmaduke  Langdale  at  Rowton  Heath  or  Moor.  The  day  fol 
lowing  this  bitter  disappointment  the  king  succeeded  in  escaping 
from  the  city.  "  If  you  do  not  receive  relief  within  eight  days 
surrender  the  garrison,"  said  the  king  to  his  faithful  officer  on 
departing.  Yet  it  was  not  until  starvation  drove  the  soldiers 
and  citizens  to  eat  cats,  dogs  and  horses  that  they  entertained 
the  idea  of  submitting ;  not  until  all  hope  of  succor  had  van 
ished  —  not  until  they  had  received  the  tenth  summons  to  sur 
render,  did  the  city  yield.  On  the  third  of  February,  1646, 
Chester  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Parliamentary  party. 

The  terrible  sweating  sickness  on  several  occasions  visited 
this  place,  proving  exceptionally  fatal;  and  during  the  years 
extending  from  1602  to  1605  the  plague  also  devastated  the  city 
and  region  round  about  in  a  most  appalling  manner.  So  great 
were  the  ravages  that  the  fairs  were  suspended  and  the  courts 
were  removed  to  other  places.  In  those  days  the  visitations 
were  thought  to  be  punishments  sent  by  God  for  the  wickedness 
of  the  city,  but  we  of  the  present  time  would  explain  the  cause 


79 

somewhat  differently.  The  ravages  of  the  plague  were  evi 
dently  largely  the  result  of  the  short-sightedness,  the  ignorance 
and  lack  of  cleanliness  on  the  part  of  the  citizens.  Knowledge 
and  recognition  of  the  laws  of  health  and  sanitation  would  have 
greatly  reduced  its  fatality.  But  man  is  slow  to  learn,  and  it  is 
only  in  the  school  of  bitter  experience  that  the  most  important 
lessons  are  inculcated.  So  long  as  he  insists  on  sitting  in  dark 
ness,  spurning  reason,  and  revering  superstition,  he  must  neces 
sarily  suffer  the  consequences  of  his  ignorance. 

In  the  years  1647  and  1648  the  plague  visited  Chester  for  the 
last  time,  but  during  this  period  a  fearful  mortality  marked  its 
presence.  More  than  two  thousand  died  between  June  and 
April.  In  this  connection  I  must  refer  to  a  quaint  building 
which  is  sure  to  be  pointed  out  to  the  visitor.  It  was  first  built 
in  1652,  and  has  since  been  restored  so  as  to  represent  exactly  the 
original  building  in  all  respects.  It  is  called  "  God's  Providence 
House,"  and  bears  the  inscription  in  bold  letters  across  the  main 
beam,  "God's  providence  is  mine  inheritance."  The  natural 
supposition  which  first  occurs  to  the  visitor  is  that  this  ostenta 
tious  inscription  was  an  outcropping  of  the  canting  pharisaism 
which  swept  over  England  after  the  downfall  of  Charles  I;  but 
any  intimation  of  this  nature  is  promptly  repudiated  by  the 
natives  of  Chester,  who  insist  that  this  house  was  the  only  resi 
dence  on  Watergate  Street  which  escaped  the  ravages  of  the 
plague  during  the  years  1647  and  1648,  and  in  gratitude  for  the 
deliverance  the  owner  placed  the  pious  inscription  across  the 
front  of  his  home. 

Speaking  of  this  unique  house  reminds  me  of  two  other  build 
ings  of  a  quasi  public  character  which  are  of  interest  to  visitors. 
One  is  the  old  Stanley  Mansion  erected  in  1591,  which  is  the  best 
and  oldest  specimen  of  ancient  timber  houses  in  Chester.  A 
melancholy  interest  attaches  to  the  history  of  this  building,  for  it 
was  from  it  that  the  ill-starred  Earl  of  Derby  was  led  to  his  exe 
cution  at  Bolton.  The  other  house  I  have  in  mind  is  known  as 
the  Bishop  Lloyd  Palace,  which  bears  the  date  of  1615,  and  is 
adorned  with  curious  carvings  representing  a  number  of  sub 
jects  which  are  supposed  to  be  more  or  less  pious,  among  which 
maybe  mentioned  Adam  and  Eve  in  "sinless  nudity,"  Cain 
killing  Abel,  Abraham  offering  up  Isaac,  some  New  Testament 
conceptions,  together  with  the  coat  of  arms  of  King  James  II 
and  that  of  the  worthy  bishop. 

These  places,  however,  though  curious  and  worthy  of  atten 
tion,  are  far  less  interesting  than  many  of  the  more  famous  at 
tractions  of  Chester,  among  which  are  the  celebrated  "  Rows  " 
which  are  unique  among  shops,  and  about  the  origin  of  which 
there  has  been  no  end  of  controversy.  These  Rows  consist  of 


so  persons,  places  ant)  flfceas. 

covered  galleries  fronting  shops,  and  extending  from  square  to 
square,  often  in  tiers  one  above  another.  Many  antiquarians 
insist  that  they  are  a  vestige  of  Roman  civilization,  and,  as  one 
well  known  authority  observes :  "  There  are  many  circum 
stances  which  seem  to  justify  this  view  of  the  case,  particularly 
that  of  their  resemblance  to  the  porticos  or  vestibula  spoken  of 
by  Plautus  and  other  Latin  authors ;  and  a  further  point  is  ad 
vanced  as  tending  to  confirm  this  opinion  —  that  there  is,  or 
was,  a  street  in  old  Rome  which  bore  a  close  resemblance  to 
the  Rows  of  Chester.  Taking  into  account  these  points,  to 
gether  with  the  fact  that  the  remains  of  a  Roman  bath  and 
lavatory  exist  to  the  present  under  one  of  the  Rows,  the  argu 
ment  in  favor  of  Roman  origin  is  certainly  entitled  to  consid 
eration." 

But  the  Rows  are  merely  one  of  many  striking  peculiarities 
which  engage  the  attention  of  visitors,  and  from  this  interesting 
feature  we  turn  to  the  ruins  of  the  church  of  St.  John  the  Bap 
tist,  once  a  cathedral  and  to-day  a  marvel  of  beauty  in  its  man 
tle  of  ivy,  despite  the  unsightly  modern  tower  which  offends  the 
eye  and  affects  one  with  much  the  same  feeling  of  vexation 
as  is  awakened  by  the  sight  of  some  wanton  vandalism  in  a 
noble  or  sacred  spot.  These  ruins  recall  the  massive  masonry 
characteristic  of  many  of  the  more  pretentious  buildings  of  olden 
times.  They  are  exceedingly  picturesque,  and  as  a  fine  speci 
men  of  the  ruins  of  edifices  which  were  the  glory  of  a  former 
social  order  are  extremely  interesting. 

The  cathedral  of  Chester,  however,  is  by  far  the  most  impress 
ive  religious  structure  in  the  city.  According  to  tradition  it 
stands  on  the  site  of  a  Druidioal  temple  which  gave  place  to 
a  building  dedicated  to  Apollo.  Later  we  are  told  that  the 
British  Christians  erected  on  this  spot  a  house  of  worship  to  the 
honor  of  the  Nazarene.  After  the  Saxons  came  into  power  we 
are  told  that  King  Wulpherus  of  Mercia,  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
seventh  century,  erected  on  the  site  of  the  present  cathedral,  a 
religious  house  for  his  daughter  and  other  young  women  who 
desired  to  take  the  veil.  As  tradition  enters  the  web  and  woof 
of  much  of  the  early  history  relating  to  this  spot,  and  as  the 
Saxon  chronicles  are  often  vague  and  inaccurate,  I  do  not  feel 
that  we  are  on  the  firm  ground  of  history  in  regard  to  the  cathe 
dral  until  we  reach  the  advent  of  the  Normans  ;  from  this  time 
we  have  data  which  can  be  regarded  as  fairly  authoritative. 
Under  the  rule  of  the  early  earls  of  Chester,  the  nunnery 
gave  place  to  a  monastery  for  the  Benedictine  order.  Later  was 
erected  the  cathedral  which  has  since  been  the  pride  of  the  city, 
and  whose  walls  might  unfold  a  story  more  thrilling  than  the 
imagination  of  a  novelist  would  dare  to  picture.  Even  to-day 


Gbester*on*tbe*IDee»  si 

this  noble  structure  bears  the  sad  marks  of  the  broken  vows  of 
the  Parliamentary  forces,  who  pledged  themselves  to  see  that  the 
religious  houses  of  Chester  were  not  molested  provided  the  city 
surrendered,  but  who,  after  making  this  solemn  obligation,  per 
mitted  the  interior  of  the  cathedral  to  be  shamefully  defaced  and 
the  great  organ  to  be  broken. 

The  cloister  of  this  building  is  very  ancient  in  appearance, 
and  carries  the  mind  back  to  a  period  so  rude  and  unlike  our 
age  that  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  gain  any  adequate  conception  of 
the  life  lived  before  the  dawn  of  modern  times,  with  the  march 
of  civilization  unfolding  new  worlds  at  each  step,  and  the  progress 
of  invention  and  science  which  has  so  completely  transformed 
life,  and  even  to  a  great  degree  our  ideals  and  conceptions  relat 
ing  to  the  origin,  nature,  and  destiny  of  man. 

Curiously  enough  the  rear  view  of  the  cathedral,  which  is  best 
obtained  by  ascending  the  walls  of  the  city,  is  by  far  the  most 
imposing.  Indeed  from  these  ancient  walls  one  may  see  so  much 
of  special  interest  that  I  will  ask  the  reader  to  accompany  us  on 
a  stroll  along  this  much  travelled  pathway,  so  rich  in  interest  to 
thoughtful  minds. 

After  ascending  the  wall  near  Eastgate  Street  and  leaving  the 
cathedral  to  our  left,  we  soon  find  ourselves  in  front  of  Phoenix 
Tower,  of  which  I  have  before  spoken.  A  tablet  attached  to 
this  tower  conveys  the  inaccurate  information  that  "King  Charles 
stood  upon  this  tower  September  24-,  1645,  and  saw  his  army 
defeated  at  Rowton  Moor,"  while  of  course  all  historians  know 
that  it  was  not  until  the  27th  of  September  that  the  defeat  was 
witnessed.  How  the  engraver  came  to  make  such  a  blunder  is 
even  less  surprising  than  that  the  citizens  of  Chester  have  per 
mitted  the  inaccurate  tablet  to  remain ;  perhaps  the  reverence 
for  the  written  word  is  such  that  the  sanctity  of  engraved  error 
is  greater  to  them  than  the  claims  of  truth. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  tragic  air  of  the  old  gentleman  who 
had  charge  of  the  little  museum  in  the  tower ;  after  striving  to 
excite  my  enthusiasm  over  Charles,  he  seized  my  arm  and  in  the 
voice  of  a  heavy  tragedian  in  a  sensational  play  said,  "  Stand 
here  "  ;  then,  after  pointing  through  a  little  window  toward  Row- 
ton  Heath,  he  fastened  his  eyes  upon  me  with  an  unpleasant  in 
tensity,  while  in  a  voice  which  suggested  the  ghost  of  Hamlet's 
father  he  said  in  measured  tones,  "  You  are  now  standing  on  the 
VERY  SPOT  where  on  the  27th  of  September,  16 45,  his  Majesty,  the 
great  and  good  King  Charles  the  First,  witnessed  the  defeat  of 
his  forces  at  Rowton  Moor"  His  voice  was  rather  tremulous  as 
he  finished  his  last  words,  and  I  am  sure  that  my  failure  to 
evince  the  sympathy  expected  was  a  greater  source  of  vexation 
to  the  old  man  than  the  payment  of  an  excess  of  the  customary 


82  persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas* 

fee  afforded  him  pleasure.  This  old  gentleman  looked  like  one 
accustomed  to  play  the  part  of  a  heavy  tragedian  in  a  melodrama. 
He  had  apparently  become  so  thoroughly  en  rapport  with  the 
cause  of  the  ill-starred  king  that  no  saint  could  have  awakened  in 
his  mind  profounder  feelings  of  love  and  reverence  than  the 
English  ruler  whose  life  in  prosperity  was  as  disappointing,  to 
say  the  least,  as  his  demeanor  in  adversity  was  calculated  to 
soften  the  criticism  which  his  prosperous  years  would  seem  to  merit. 

Leaving  the  tower  and  continuing  our  walk,  we  soon  reach  a 
picturesque  spot  of  special  interest  a  little  beyond  the  beaten 
path  which  would  be  taken  by  those  only  interested  in  "  doing  " 
the  city  in  the  shortest  possible  time.  I  refer  to  the  ancient 
water-tower,  erected  when  the  tidal  waters  of  the  Dee  flowed  up 
to  the  city  walls.  Here  in  olden  times  ships  were  made  secure 
to  great  rings  and  bolts  fastened  in  the  massive  walls  of  this 
tower.  Pausing  here  for  a  moment  to  note  the  silver  and  green 
of  the  river  basin  and  the  lowlands  once  covered  with  water,  one 
is  reminded  that  for  centuries  in  the  long  vanished  past  Chester 
was  the  principal  commercial  seaport  of  North  England.*  And 
as  a  well  known  author  has  recently  pointed  out,  that  which  de 
stroyed  Chester's  commercial  supremacy  made  Liverpool,  for  it 
was  not  until  the  upheaving  of  the  estuary  of  the  Dee,  accom 
panied  by  the  submergence  of  the  forest  of  Leasow  and  the 
hollowing  out  of  the  great  Mersey  harbor,  that  Chester  became 
practically  an  inland  town  and  the  commercial  star  of  Liverpool  rose. 

Leaving  the  old  water-tower  we  soon  find  ourselves  walking 
along  that  part  of  the  wall  which  affords  an  excellent  view  of 
that  wonderful  piece  of  masonry  known  as  the  Grosvenor's 
Bridge,  consisting  of  a  single  arch  two  hundred  feet  in  length 
and  forty  feet  high.  This  is  said  to  be  the  longest  single  stone 
arch  in  Europe  with  the  exception  of  -a  bridge  on  the  Danube ;  it 
is  certainly  a  marvel  of  beauty  and  skill,  and  the  view  from  this 
point  of  the  wall  is  surpassingly  beautiful. 

Continuing  our  walk  we  soon  reach  the  famous  castle  of 
Chester  just  within  the  city  walls.  This  building  is  very  notice 
able  owing  to  the  style  of  architecture  suggesting  ancient  Greece 
and  Rome ;  it  contrasts  boldly  with  the  imposing  Norman  ruins, 
the  unique  architecture  of  the  shopping  district,  and  the  hope 
lessly  prosaic  modern  buildings  which  one  finds  on  every  hand. 
Probably  the  most  interesting  feature  connected  with  the  castle 
is  the  old  tower.  Here,  the  inhabitants  of  Chester  never  fail  to 
tell  you,  King  James  the  Second  received  the  sacrament  during 
his  stay  in  the  city.  But  its  walls  have  witnessed  things  which 
most  of  our  readers  would  regard  as  of  vastly  more  importance 
than  this  fact,  which  I  mention  simply  to  illustrate  how  firmly  the 

*  See  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  ninth  edition. 


83 

"divine-right "  idea  seems  to  hold  a  place  in  the  mind  of  the 
average  Englishman. 

Turning  from  the  castle  and  continuing  our  walk  along  the 
walls,  we  soon  find  ourselves  opposite  the  rapids  or  falls  of  the 
little  river,  which  for  centuries  have  turned  the  wheels  for  the 
celebrated  mills  of  the  Dee.  The  mills  are  to-day,  however, 
rather  unsightly  buildings,  with  their  numerous  broken  window- 
panes  and  general  air  of  dilapidation. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  emotion  I  experienced  on  one  evening 
in"  August,  1894,  when  standing  on  this  old  wall  overlooking  the 
Dee.  The  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  hills,  giving  a  peculiar 
though  transient  brilliancy  to  the  marvellously  beautiful  land 
scape,  and  lighting  up  with  unusual  splendor  the  few  fugitive 
clouds  which  floated  in  the  sky.  A  shower  had  passed  about 
two  hours  before,  leaving  the  air  fresh  and  redolent  with  the  odors 
of  trees  and  flowers.  In  the  distance  were  the  hills  of  Wales; 
from  below  came  the  rushing  sound  of  the  rapids  of  the  Dee, 
while  behind  rose  the  din  of  the  city,  now  dying  away  as  night 
stole  softly  on.  The  scene  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten,  and 
as  I  stood  upon  the  solid  walls  viewing  the  ancient  thoroughfare 
which  had  been  hewn  out  of  solid  rock  by  the  Roman  soldiers  at 
a  time  when  Christianity  was  still  young,  my  mind  reverted  to 
the  past  and  I  thought  of  the  march  of  time  and  the  strange 
vicissitudes  of  life,  and  a  panorama  of  events  passed  before  me 
which  I  shall  never  forget. 

Upon  the  T>anks  of  this  wonderfully  beautiful  river  and  proba 
bly  on  the  very  site  of  Chester  the  ancient  Britons  lived  their 
rude  and  careless  life.  Here  the  Roman  eagles  were  planted  and 
a  military  camp  was  established  which  grew  into  a  city,  while  the 
soldiers  of  the  Empire  made  this  spot  their  home  and  wedded 
British  maidens.  Here  were  built  a  forum,  a  public  bath,  and 
doubtless  temples  to  the  deities  of  the  Tiber ;  in  short,  the  glory 
of  Roman  civilization  was  reproduced  in  miniature. 

Then  the  scene  changed,  and  I  beheld  the  flower  of  Chester's 
manhood  departing  for  imperilled  Rome.  The  bitterness  of 
that  parting  was  a  precursor  of  a  gloomy  time  for  women,  maid 
ens  and  children.  I  saw  the  star  of  Briton  sink  and  the  suprem 
acy  of  the  Saxons  established  even  in  Chester.  Then  came  the 
savage  Danes,  those  sons  of  war  and  water,  who  seized  the  city 
but  were  shortly  after  driven  from  her  wails.  I  saw  the  noble 
daughter  of  Alfred  the  Great  holding  her  court  in  the  castle, 
flushed  with  love  and  victory,  and  listening  with  swelling  breast 
to  the  rude  songs  of  valiant  deeds. 

The  scene  again  shifted,  and  now  it  was  the  Saxon  sun  which 
was  setting,  and  I  noted  the  widowed  queen  of  Harold  seeking 
a  refuge  in  this  town,  which  proved  to  be  the  last  Saxon  city  to 


8-t      persons,  places  anD  UDeas, 

yield  to  the  Conqueror.  I  saw  the  Normans  come  and  a  new 
civilization  rise  on  the  ruins  of  British,  Roman,  and  Saxon  do 
minion.  I  recalled  the  fact  that  at  the  court  of  the  earls  of 
Chester  life  was  lived  in  much  the  same  careless  way  that  char 
acterizes  the  very  rich  of  our  time,  although  there  was  less  of 
artificiality  on  the  one  hand,  while  on  the  other  ignorance  and 
serfdom  enveloped  the  masses. 

I  remembered  that  it  was  here  in  1399  that  Richard  IT.  was 
brought  captive  on  his  fatal  journey  to  the  tower  of  London, 
and  here  also  Charles  the  First  had  witnessed  the  defeat  of  his 
forces  less  than  four  years  before  his  execution.  I  saw  the 
misery  of  the  people  during  the  years  of  the  sweating  sickness, 
which,  however,  paled  into  insignificance  before  the  plague 
which  visited  Chester  at  later  periods.  I  marked  the  march  of 
humanity  with  the  onward  current  of  the  years,  the  fitful  rise  of 
races,  and  their  fatal  falls  through  failure  to  grasp  and  assimilate 
the  supreme  lesson  of  lessons,  which  alone  holds  the  secret  of 
enduring  civilization,  and  which  is  summed  up  in  that  magic 
trinity,  Freedom,  Fraternity  and  Justice ;  and  I  thought  how 
slow  of  heart  is  man  to  learn  the  august  truth  noted  above  and 
which  is  epitomized  in  the  golden  rule.  Yet  this  is  the  lesson 
which  this  city  no  less  than  all  history  teaches.  All  civilization 
will  decay  and  fall  until  man  comes  to  himself  suificiently  to 
appreciate  the  fact  that  any  foundation  save  that  of  spiritual 
supremacy  will  sooner  or  later  prove  shifting  sands;  all  endur 
ing  progress  must  be  grounded  on  high  ethical  truths. 
Never  before  had  this  thought  come  home  to  me  with  such 
compelling  force  as  at  this  solemn  moment.  I  saw  more  clearly 
than  ever  before  that  any  nation  or  civilization  which  yields  to 
selfism  and  permits  the  lower  to  gain  supremacy  over  the 
higher,  which  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  the  demands  of  fundamental 
justice,  which  ignores  the  spirit  of  human  brotherhood,  and  allows 
the  canker  of  egoism  to  corrupt  laws  and  public  opinion,  will 
sooner  or  later  go  out  in  darkness.  This  is  the  story  which  is 
told  by  the  decay  of  Roman  civilization;  indeed,  it  is  the  capital 
lesson  of  all  history  no  less  than  it  is  the  cardinal  truth  incul 
cated  by  true  religion  and  philosophy.  Might  may  conquer  for 
a  day.  Money  may  pollute  and  corrupt  and  thereby  turn  aside 
justice  for  a  time,  but  right  alone  possesses  the  element  of  per 
sistency,  and  never  until  man  recognizes  justice  and  altruism  as 
the  foundation  upon  which  civilization  must  be  built,  will 
progress  be  permanent  or  happiness  become  a  heritage  of 
humanity. 

These  thoughts  reminded  me  of  the  sadder  and  more  tragic  side 
of  life  in  Chester,  for  this  city  is  no  exception  in  this  respect  to 
other  similarly  populous  centres  of  life  in  Europe  and  America. 
In  fact  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  here  an  unusually  large 


85 

percentage  of  persons  who  were  eager  to  obtain  the  privilege  of 
earning  a  few  pennies.  Here  as  elsewhere,  without  doubt, 
poverty  is  greatly  aggravated  by  the  liquor  traffic.  I  have 
seldom  seen  a  city  where  there  seemed  so  many  "  inns,"  "  cel 
lars,"  and  "vaults,"  names  designating  places  where  liquor  may 
be  bought,  as  here;  and  some  of  these  designating  titles  were 
peculiarly  suggestive  ;  as  for  example,  I  noticed  on  one  occasion  in 
bold  letters  the  "  Raven  Vaults  "  as  a  title  for  what  we  would  term 
in  this  country  a  saloon.  The  sight  of  that  name  instantly  arrested 
my  attention  as  it  seemed  so  appropriate ;  I  remembered  the 
raven  was  popularly  considered  the  "  bird  of  ill  omen."  It  is 
associated  with  the  idea  of  misfortune,  of  misery,  and  of  darkness; 
as  the  word  "vaults"  is  strikingly  suggestive  of  the  final  resting- 
place  of  the  dead.  Ill-fortune,  misery,  and  death  —  such  were 
symbolized  by  the  name  of  this  saloon  ;  and  I  thought  how  ap 
propriate  would  be  such  a  designation  for  all  places  where  man 
is  debased  and  debauched  by  strong  drink.  In  justice  to  Chester, 
however,  I  would  say  that  during  my  stay  of  over  two  weeks 
I  saw  comparatively  little  drunkenness  in  spite  of  the  great 
number  of  saloons.  The  reason,  I  think,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
fact  that  malted  drinks  rather  than  stronger  liquors  are  chiefly 
consumed.  The  long  rows  of  homes  of  the  poor,  filling  many 
streets,  are  characterized  as  a  rule  by  stone  floors  which  are 
usually  kept  scrupulously  clean.  Another  thing  I  noticed  which 
impressed  me  with  mingled  pleasure  and  pain  was  the  number 
of  flowers  seen  on  all  sides.  People  who  had  no  ground  in 
which  to  plant  their  seeds,  had  their  windows  filled  with  com 
mon  flowers,  showing  the  presence  of  the  innate  love  of  the 
beautiful.  It  made  me  heartsick  to  think  that  the  divine  im 
pulse,  that  interior  love  of  the  artistic,  should  have  so  little  to 
feed  upon  in  the  narrow  confines  of  wretched  streets. 

I  believe,  however,  that  a  better  day  is  at  hand  for  humanity. 
There  may  be  hours  of  darkness  before  us,  but  surely  we  are  in 
the  midst  of  a  transition  period,  and  to-day  carries  greater 
possibilities  for  mankind  than  any  previous  birth-era,  for  we 
are  on  a  higher  rung  of  the  spiral  ladder,  and  education  is  more 
diffused.  Hence  I  do  not  despair.  I  see  the  horrid  inequality 
and  injustice  ;  I  feel  the  wrong  endured  by  the  people  ;  but  I 
know  that  the  forces  of  light  are  working  with  us,  and  if  we  do  our 
duty  the  day  will  soon  dawn,  not  for  Chester  or  England  alone, 
but  for  the  world.  "  I  have  faith  in  freedom  and  good,"  wrote 
John  Bright  during  the  darkest  hours  of  our  Civil  War,  and  so 
I  feel  to-day.  The  future  is  with  us,  and  I  believe  that  before  a 
generation  has  passed  the  greatest  emancipation  proclamation 
of  which  man  has  yet  dreamed,  will  be  issued.  It  is  to  this  end 
that  all  men  and  women  of  the  new  time  must  consecrate  their 
highest  and  noblest  endeavors. 


Strolls  :Be$on&  tbe  Walls  of  Cbester;  witb 
(Slimpses  of  tbe  Country  Seat  of  tbe  smfce  of 
Westminster  an£>  tbe  1bome  of  W*  i£,  (Blab* 
stone* 

I.     The  Diogenes  of  the  Dee. 

On  the  morning  of  the  22d  of  August,  1894,  our  little 
party  strolled  along  the  banks  of  the  Dee  toward  the  old  city 
wall.  We  had  left  behind  us  the  ruins  of  the  church  of  St. 
John  the  Baptist  and  the  beautiful  Grosvenor  Park  with  its 
velvet-like  carpet  of  emerald  and  its  exceptionally  luxuriant 
shrubbery.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  it  was  somewhat  cloudy, 
we  were  debating  whether  it  would  be  wrise  to  take  one  of 
the  steam  launches  for  our  long  contemplated  visit  to  the 
country  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Westminster,  when  a  weather- 
beaten  boatman  importuned  us  to  take  a  sail  upon  the 
river.  "It  will  be  a  tine  morning  to  visit  Eaton  Hall,"  he 
urged  in  the  broad  accent  of  the  English  laboring  man,  "and 
it  will  be  helping  me  if  you  will  let  me  take  you  there." 

1  will  not  attempt  to  repeat  either  here  or  on  the  following 
pages  the  language,  nor  to  imitate  the  quaint  phraseology  of 
this  striking  individual  who  clearly  was  guileless  of  any 
extensive  acquaintance  with  the  English  grammar,  but  who 
was,  nevertheless,  a  remarkable  man.  He  was  an  earnest 
and  thoughtful  reader  and  an  independent  thinker,  and  I 
should  say  in  many  respects  an  excellent  type  of  the  sturdy 
yeomanry  who  so  largely  represent  the  strength  of  England. 
I  afterwards  learned  he  had  saved  more  than  a  score  of 
lives  from  accidental  drowning  in  the  treacherous  waters  of 
the  Dee;  he  had  also  rescued  several  persons  who,  under  the 
influence  of  drink,  or  crushed  by  adversity,  sought  the  sui 
cide's  end  in  the  still  hours  of  the  night.  He  was  strong 
limbed;  his  face  was  bronzed  with  sun  and  wind — his  coun 
tenance  was  open  and  bore  a  sturdy  expression.  He  must 
have  been  fifty  years  of  age,  but  was  far  stronger  to  all 


Strolls  iJBe^onfc  tbe  Malls  of  Gbester,        8T 

appearances  than  are  many  pampered  sons  of  wealth  at 
thirty-five.  Still,  his  bowed  shoulders  and  the  deep  wrinkles 
together  with  a  certain  sadness  or  gravity  which  seemed  to 
grace  his  resolute  brow,  indicated  that  his  lot  in  life  had 
been  by  no  means  easy,  and  that  much  anxiety  and  care 
had  been  mingled  in  his  cup  of  life.  He  was  quite  talkative, 
very  much  of  a  cynic  at  times,  but  frequently  his  remarks 
were  exceedingly  thoughtful,  and  more  than  once  he  re 
flected  in  a  striking  manner  ideas  which  I  had  heard  ex 
pressed  with  less  perspicuity  by  toilers  with  wThom  I  had 
chanced  to  fall  into  conversation  in  Dover,  London  and 
Liverpool.  His  outlook  on  life  and  public  matters,  though 
frankly  given  in  quaint  and  homely  speech,  evinced  much 
of  the  philosopher,  and  was  so  strikingly  opposite  to  the 
views  held  by  the  owner  of  Eaton  Hall,  that  I  jotted  down 
much  that  passed  between  us,  and  will  preface  my  descrip 
tion  of  the  palatial  country  seat  of  the  Duke  of  West 
minister  with  some  of  the  observations  made  by  our  Di 
ogenes  of  the  Dee. 

After  pointing  out  many  places  of  interest  on  the  banks 
of  the  river,  something  was  said  of  Judge  Hughes,  the  emi 
nent  English  author  and  his  experiment  at  Eugby,  Ten 
nessee.  The  judge  is  a  resident  of  Chester,  and  our  philoso 
pher  seemed  to  regard  him  highly. 

"He  is  considerable  of  a  man,"  he  said,  "and  that  is  more 
than  can  be  said  of  a  good  many  who  pride  themselves  in 
the  possession  of  titles  and  wealth." 

"We  are  from  America,"  I  observed,  "and  you  know  we  do 
not  care  for  titles  as  you  do  over  here,  but  I  would  like  to 
know  your  opinion  of  the  Duke." 

The  old  man  eyed  me  narrowly  a  moment  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  an  incredulous  smile  played  for  an  instant 
around  his  lips  at  my  reference  to  our  contempt  for  titles. 
I  felt  there  was  a  remark  upon  his  lips  which  might  have 
called  to  mind  the  exorbitant  prices  recently  paid  by  many 
daughters  of  our  "mushroom  aristocracy"  for  broken-down 
lords,  dukes  and  princes,  rich  only  in  empty  titles,  but  I 
fancy  his  native  shrewdness  checked  him  from  making  a 
remark  which  might  possibly  offend  us. 

After  a  moment's  reflection  he  said,  "The  present  Duke 
is  entirely  unlike  his  father,  who  was  very  generous  and 
did  more  for  Chester  than  any  person  within  my  recollec 
tion.  You  have  seen  his  statue  in  Grosvenor  Park?"  We 
assented.  "Well  then  you  know  something  of  the  kind  of 
looking  man  he  was;  no  one  could  ever  mistake  him  for  his 
coachman ;  but  the  present  Duke  [and  here  our  philosopher 


Strolls  Be^onfc  tbe  'Malls  ot  Chester*        89 

shook  his  head  sadly]  is  very  different;  he  does  not  look  at 
all  like  a  man  of  quality." 

I  observed  that  looks  were  sometimes  deceptive. 

"I  know/'  he  replied,  "but  this  is  not  one  of  those  cases. 
He  is  close,  he  never  gives  Chester  anything  to  speak  of, 
he  seems  to  think  chiefly  of  himself  and  his  pleasure,  al 
though  he  is  anxious  to  be  regarded  as  a  philanthropist. 
They  say  he  lias  the  largest  rental  income  from  London 
property  of  any  man  in  England;  I  don't  remember  the 
exact  figures,  but  I  have  them  at  home,  and  it  is  almost  too 
big  to  believe." 

"I  have  noticed  it  stated  that  the  Duke  is  very  generous 
and  that  he  gives  all  fees  from  visitors  to  the  palace  to 
charitable  institutions,"  I  observed. 

"Now  there  is  a  case  in  point,"  said  our  cynic.  "You  see 
the  Duke  is  very  proud  of  his  palace;  it  is  one  of  the  finest  in 
England  if  not  in  Europe,  and  he  wants  visitors  from  every 
where  to  see  it;  that  satisfies  his  vanity  just  as  the  vanity  of 
other  men  is  satisfied  in  other  ways.  But,  by  charging,  for 
charity's  sake, a  shilling  to  see  the  palace  and  a  shilling  to 
go  through  the  gardens  and  conservatories,  he  is  able  to 
turn  over  about  five  hundred  pounds  a  year  to  the  Chester 
Infirmary,  Khyl  Convalescent  Home  and  other  like  institu 
tions.  This  is  heralded  far  and  near  as  an  example  of  the 
Duke's  generosity,  and  he  is  enabled  to  pose  as  a  philan 
thropist,  while  unthinking  people  who  work  and  suffer  that 
such  men  as  the  Duke  may  spend  their  time  in  luxurious 
ease  and  idleness  in  London,  Scotland  and  elsewhere,  read 
these  accounts  of  his  charity  and  are  ready  to  throw  up  their 
hats  and  shout  their  praises;  but  that  is  only  because  they 
don't  think,"  continued  our  philosopher  in  a  slow  and  em 
phatic  tone.  "But,"  he  added  earnestly,  "there  are 
more  and  more  working  men  in  England  every  month  who 
are  learning  to  reason  for  themselves,  and  they  say,  and 
rightly  say  that  we  don't  want  the  crumbs  that  fall  from 
these  rich  men's  tables  any  longer.  We  are  tired  of  crawl 
ing  on  our  hands  and  knees  for  the  bones  and  crumbs  after 
we  ourselves  have  supplied  the  materials  for  the  feast. 
They  say  'give  us  justice  and  not  charity,'  and  you  are  from 
America  so  you  can  understand  how  they  feel.  They  say 
that  the  Duke  does  not  earn  his  vast  income ;  he  don't  even 
go  to  the  trouble  of  collectino1  it.  London  is  increasing  the 
value  of  his  property  all  the  time,  and  without  his  working 
he  is  enabled  to  rear)  vast  fortunes  earned  by  others,  while 
those  who  rent  his  property  often  have  to  work  hard  days 
and  stay  awake  nights  worrying  the  life  out  of  them  to 


Strolls  JBe^onb  tbe  Malls  of  Gbester. 

make  ends  meet  and  pay  their  rents.  They  have  to  cut 
down  the  wages  of  their  employees  to  almost  starvation 
point  and  their  employees  have  to  skimp  and  twist  and  turn 
and  live  a  dog's  life  to  live  at  all.  Now  why  should  the 
workers  bear  the  burdens  while  society  is  all  the  time  mak 
ing  this  property  more  valuable  and  the  man  who  has  never 
done  anything  lives  in  ease  and  luxury  off  of  it?  That  is 
not  justice,  and  the  people  have  a  right  to  demand  justice. 
Now  I  don't  mean  to  say  the  Duke  is  worse  than  many 
other  landlords,  and  think  from  what  I  read  and  hear  that 
he  is  better  than  a  great  many  of  the  money-lending  class 
who  are  oppressing  the  people,  but  the  whole  system  is 
wrong  because  it  is  not  just  and  it  is  not  according  to  the 
Scriptures,  at  least  that  is  what  these  people  say." 

"From  my  point  of  view  I  think  they  are  right,"  I  replied. 

"Do  you  think  so?  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  for  I 
agree  with  them  too." 

From  this  time  on  our  philosopher  was  very  free  in  his 
criticism. 

"You  spoke  just  now  of  the  principles  being  unscriptural," 
I  began. 

"Does  not  the  Book  say,  'If  any  will  not  work  neither  shall 
he  eat';  now  what  does  that  imply?"  he  quickly  interposed. 

"Yes,  but  that  was  not  the  point  I  had  in  mind.  I  wish 
to  know  the  attitude  of  the  clergy  on  the  great  social  and 
political  problems." 

The  cynic  shrugged  his  shoulders  significantly.  "I  belong 
to  the  church,"  he  answered,  "but  I  have  not  attended  service 
for  a  long  time,  because  I  found  out  that  from  the  bishops 
down,  fine  bonnets  and  good  coats  count  for  more  than  the 
heads  and  hearts  of  the  people.  Our  clergymen  are  think 
ing  a  good  deal  more  about  having  an  easy  time  or  gaining 
popularity  and  having  their  names  appear  in  the '  great 
papers,  coupled  with  fair  words,  than  they  are  concerned 
about  the  poor  and  the  starving  in  their  midst." 

"That  is  undoubtedly  true  in  a  large  number  of  cases," 
I  replied,  "but  there  are  many  clergymen  who  are  very 
different." 

"There  may  be  enough  exceptions  to  prove  the  rule  I 
have  given,  but  I  doubt  if  there  would  be  any  to  spare," 
promptly  exclaimed  the  cynic  in  homely  terms  and  vigor 
ous  tones.  "Why,  there  are  fifty-three  thousand*  members 
of  the  clergy  in  Great  Britain,  not  counting  the  dissenting 
ministers.  Now  if  the  Master  should  come  as  He  came  of 

*Thesp  fijrnres  are  those  of  our  philosopher,  and  T  have  not  been  able  to  verify  his 
statement,  so  simply  give  the  number  as  he  gave  it  to  us. 


Strolls  JBe^onb  tbe  Malls  of  Cbester*        93 

old  and  He  should  go  to  the  fishing  towns  and  manufactur 
ing  cities  of  England  and  search  out  the  poor  and  suffering; 
it'  He  should  mingie  with  tnem  and  give  words  of  ciieer  to 
those  of  our  time  who  correspond  to  tnose  who  were  the  pub 
licans  and  sinners  of  His  aay,  ana  at  the  same  time  should 
claim  that  He  was  the  Lord  and  simply  point  to  His  life, 
teachings  and  works  as  proof  of  His  assertions,  do  you  think 
there  would  be  any  rusn  of  bishops  in  England  to  follow 
Him?  !No  sir,  I  can  tell  you  that  if  they  followed  Him  it 
would  be  to  testify  in  court  against  Him  just  as  the  Phari 
sees  and  chief  priests  did  of  old." 

"I  think  you  are  correct  in  your  conclusions,"  I  assented. 
"The  cry  wrould  be  made  by  the  clergy  and  the  press  to-day, 
as  it  was  by  conventional  society  and  orthodox  leaders  in 
Jesus'  time,  that  He  was  a  wine  bibber  and  a  friend  of 
publicans  and  sinners,  or  in  a  word,  disreputable,  not  only 
unworthy  of  conhdence  but  one  who  was  an  impostor  mak 
ing  impious  claims  and,  being  a  teacher  of  things  that  were 
fundamentally  at  variance  with  the  existing  social  order, 
He  should  be  summarily  dealt  with  in  order  that  society 
might  be  protected." 

"That  is  exactly  it,"  exclaimed  our  philosopher,  "and  His 
very  works  would  be  denounced  as  imposition  upon  the 
ignorant,  His  motives  would  be  judged  and  condemned,  and 
not  only  the  clergy  and  the  courts,  but  the  press  and  those 
of  the  masses  icho  do  not  think,  would  join  in  the  cry  to  dis 
credit  or  destroy  Him,  just  as  the  Jews  did  of  old.  I  have 
often  said  this,"  continued  the  old  man,  "after  I  have  heard 
our  rectors  preaching  against  the  Jews  for  crucifying  Jesus, 
while  they  carefully  avoided  anything  in  favor  of  justice 
here  and  nmr" 

"There  is  too  much  dealing  with  generalities,  too  much 
skilful  fighting  shy  of  all  remedies  of  a  fundamental  charac 
ter  in  and  out  of  the  church  the  world  over,"  I  said,  "but 
have  you  not  fourd  the  dissenters  more  hospitable  to  the 
cause  of  the  poor?" 

I  shall  never  forget  the  look  of  contempt  which  appeared 
upon  the  bronzed  face  of  the  old  man  as  he  shruff^ed  his 
shoulders  in  his  characteristic  way  and  replied,  "I  never 
attend  chapel,  but  from  what  I  hear  they  are  all  berries  off 
of  the  same  bush  when  it  comes  to  handling  these  questions; 
tlioy  are  not  anxious  to  imitate  the  Master;  it  wrould  not  be 
safe.  No,  I  never  go  to  chapel." 

This  \vas  a  striking  illustration  of  the  power  of  religious 
prejudice  over  a  mnn  who  prided  himself  upon  his  independ 
ence  of  thought  and  freedom  from  the  trammels  of  conven 


Strolls  Beonfc  tbe  malls  ot  Cbester*        95 


tionalism.  His  look,  tone  and  movement,  far  more  than 
his  words,  conveyed  the  scorn  and  contempt  he  felt  for  the 
dissenters,  and  1  could  easily  understand  how  little  it  would 
take  to  fan  the  flame  of  religious  prejudice  in  such  as  he, 
until  reason  and  justice  would  count  tor  naught.  The  old 
gentleman  soon  reverted  to  Eaton  Hall  and  the  family  of 
the  Duke,  whose  ancestors  he  meantime  reminded  us,  origi 
nally  aided  the  Conqueror  in  robbing  the  rightful  owners  of 
their  land. 

"The  property  of  the  Earl  of  Chester  was  stolen  property 
in  the  beginning,  and  the  fortune  of  the  Duke  of  West 
minster  is  largely  the  result  of  laws  which  have  been  passed 
favoring  classes.  You  see,"  he  continued,  "these  men  don't 
earn  the  money  they  get;  they  don't  even  help  earn  it.  At 
some  time  in  their  lives  they  come  into  possession  of  prop 
erty  which  their  fathers  never  earned,  and  which  laws  help 
them  to  increase,  and  they  gain  certain  rights  which  also 
aid  them,  but  their  possessions  are  not  the  result  of  their 
earnings,  while  a  large  part  of  their  wealth  comes  from  poor 
men  and  women  and  children  who  are  compelled  to  live 
such  lives  as  the  moneyed  classes  would  not  dream  of  having 
their  dogs  or  horses  live.  Now  you  know  that  is  not  right, 
that  is  not  just,  and  it  is  not  according  to  the  teachings  of 
the  Master." 

Clearly  I  thought  our  philosopher  was  not  a  Tory,  which 
suggested  to  my  mind  the  fact  that  within  a  few  miles  of 
Chester  lived  William  E.  Gladstone,  the  idol  of  the  Liberals. 

"You  have  one  man  living  near  Chester  of  whom  I  suppose 
you  all  feel  proud." 

The  philosopher  looked  up  inquiringly.  "Gladstone," 
replied  one  of  our  party.  Again  I  noticed  the  characteris 
tic  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  something  akin  to  contempt 
on  his  face  as  he  replied,  "According  to  my  way  of  thinking, 
and  there  are  a  good  many  people  who  agree  with  me,  Glad 
stone  is  the  most  overrated  man  in  England.  He  is  more 
of  a  politician  than  a  statesman.  He  has  been  on  both  sides 
of  nearly  every  great  question  that  has  come  up  in  his  time. 
Does  that  look  like  statesmanship?" 

"A  sincere  man  will  often  change  his  mind  and  all  great 
and  worthy  men  will  grow,  as  they  advance  in  life,  so  as  to 
see  problems  in  a  broader  and  nobler  light  than  they  at  first 
conceived  them,"  I  replied.  "If  a  man  is  always  true  to  the 
fundamental  ideals  of  justice  and  fraternity,  always  on  the 
side  of  the  oppressed,  in  seeking  to  relieve  their  suffering  by 
insisting  on  the  carrying  out  of  the  Golden  Rule  as  a  law  in 
government  no  less  than  between  man  and  man,  he  is  to  be 


96  persons,  places  anD  UDeas* 

respected,  however  mistaken  he  may  be  at  times.  It  is 
treason  to  humanity  and  justice  and  a  disregard  to  pledges 
and  the  sacrifice  of  fundamental  demands  of  justice  to  expe 
diency  or  policy  which  are  reprehensible  in  statecraft  and 
which  deserve  our  censure.  Now  does  not  Mr.  Gladstone 
stand  for  humanity  and  progress?  is  not  his  pulse  always 
beating  with  the  heart  of  justice?"  I  continued. 

"No,"  he  replied  most  decisively,  "that  is  just  the  trouble 
with  Gladstone;  the  votes  to  be  won  by  appealing  to  the  pop 
ular  and  selfish  interests  of  short-sighted  Englishmen  have 
led  him  to  disregard  the  very  things  which  you  say  are  the 
essentials  of  a  statesman.  Look  for  instance  at  his  attitude 
during  your  civil  war,  w7hen  John  Bright  stood  for  the 
cause  of  freedom;  where  did  Mr.  Gladstone  stand?  Now  I 
do  not  believe  that  Mr.  Gladstone  would  admit  for  a  moment 
that  he  believed  that  African,  or  any  other  kind  of  slavery, 
was  right,  but  it  was  deemed  politic  to  appeal  to  the  selfish 
interests  of  Englishmen  in  sympathy  with  the  great  cotton 
states,  and  Gladstone  did  this;  but  was  it  the  stand  which  a 
statesman  would  have  taken? 

"I  could  mention  several  other  instances,"  he  added, 
becoming  quite  earnest  as  he  continued:  "It  is  true  he  is 
always  foremost  in  denouncing  inhumanity  and  cruelty  if 
it  is  in  some  foreign  country,  and  there  is  no  danger  of  his 
party  losing  by  such  a  stand,  but  that  is  not  the  test  of  a 
man's  true  greatness  as  I  see  it.  No  man  knows  better  than 
Gladstone  the  real  injustice  suffered  by  the  working 
classes  of  England  to-day,  and  no  one  professes  to  be  more 
in  sympathy  with  them;  but  his  party  has  come  under  the 
control  of  the  landlords  and  the  moneyed  classes,  and  there 
fore  he  will  not  champion  any  great  reform  of  a  radical 
character  which  would  offend  the  moneyed  classes  to  whom 
the  Liberals,  no  less  than  the  Tories,  look  for  support  in 
carrying  elections.  I  used  to  be  a  Liberal,  but  they  have 
pledged  reform  to  the  working  men  too  many  times,  and 
then  wThen  the  real  masters  object  to  anything  of  a  funda 
mental  character  they  make  a  flourish  of  trumpets  and  fire 
blank  cartridges,  but  are  very  careful  to  do  nothing;  this 
pleases  their  masters  and  deceives  the  people  who  do  not 
think.  The  fact  is,  as  I  see  it,  the  Liberal  party  is  more 
anxious  to  please  the  rich  than  the  Tories  are  just  at  pres 
ent." 

"You  think  that  the  Liberals  have1  been  captured  by  the 
landlords  and  lendlords  of  England,  and  being  a  party 
founded  on  democratic  ideals  and  the  ancient  enemy  of 
enthroned  conservatism  and  wrealth,  they  are  regarded  with 


Strolls  JSeponb  tbe  Malls  ot  Gbester.        97 


MR.  GLADSTONE  AND  HIS  LITTLE  GRAIODATJGHTER  DOROTHY  DREW. 

more  suspicion  by  the  new  masters  than  are  the  Tories, 
whose  principles  are  anti-democratic  and  whose  long  fealty 
to  the  rich  and  titled  classes  frees  them  from  suspicion 
which  rests  on  the  Liberals,"  I  replied. 

"That  is  exactly  it,"  returned  our  philosopher;  "they  feel 
that  they  must  out-Herod  Herod  to  satisfy  the  rich,  and  on 
many  points  they  are  less  liberal  than  the  Tories.  Now  T 
don't  know  that  I  am  in  favor  of  Woman's  Suffrage,"  he  con- 


IPcrsons,  UMaces  anD  Ufceas, 

tinned,  "but  take  that  us  mi  example.  Lord  Salisbury  is 
far  more  favorable  to  ii  ih;in  Gladstone,  although  one  would 
naturally  expect  the  Liberal  leader  to  champion  the  right  of 
franchise  for  women,  and  there  are  many  oilier  things  which 
I  might  name  in  which  the  Liberals  are  more  conservative 
on  (jiieHtiotiH  which  look  toward  extending  the  freedom  and 
bettering  the  condition  of  the  people,  which  are  being  more 
strenuously  opposed  by  the  Liberals  than  the  Tories.  The 
Liberal  party,  it  seems  to  me,  is  very  much  like  Dickens' 
Uriah  Ileep  in  its  attitude  toward  the  moneyed  classes. 
Its  very  action  suggests  Uriah's  favorite  phrase,  'I  am  very 
'umble.' ' 

"Well,"  I  said,  "Gladstone  took  a  brave  stand  for  Ire 
land." 

"And  there  again  he  counted  the  cost,"  interposed  our 
cynic.  "Look  at  his  past  record  on  that  question.  Parnell 
was  able  to  convince  him  that  his  little  band  was  indispen 
sable  to  Liberal  supremacy;  a  bargain  was  struck,  and  had 
all  gone  well  with  Parnell,  the  programme  might  have  suc 
ceeded,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  I  do  not  think  Gladstone  has 
shown  true  statesmanship  in  handling  the  Irish  question; 
a  middle  course  it  seems  to  me,  would  have  been  the  wisest 
at  the  present  time  at  least.  Mr.  Gladstone  favors  alto 
gether  too  much  for  the  safety  and  security  of  England 
when  we  remember  the  geographical  position  of  Ireland. 
Indeed,  here  again  he  considered  the  success  of  his  party 
rather  than  the  real  interest  of  England  or  Ireland  in  the 
bargain  which  he  struck  with  Parnell.  Xow  if  he  had 
shown  anything  like  this  zeal  in  carrying  out  measures  of 
permanent  value  in  order  to  secure  justice  to  English  work 
ing  men  and  tenants  he  would,  it  is  true,  have  offended  the 
moneyed  classes  no  doubt,  but  he  would  have  acted  the  part 
of  a  true  statesman  and  a  wise  humanitarian,  and  even 
though  he  might  have  suffered  defeat  for  a  time.  Liberalism 
would  have  gained  more  permanent  supremacy  in  England 
in  the  long  run.  At  least,  that  is  the  way  we  look  at  it,  and 
do  you  know  there  are  tens  of  thousands  of  voters  all  over 
this  country  who  no  longer  take  their  ideas  from  the  clergy, 
the  big  papers,  or  the  politicians:  They  are  thinking  for 
themselves,  and  you  mark  my  words,  at  the  next  general 
election  the  Liberal  party  will  be  overthrown.  I  don't  ex 
pect  the  Tories  will  do  much  better,  but  it  is  necessary  that 
the  Liberals  bo  rebuked.  The  working  people."  he  contin 
ued,  "are  talking  among  themselves  and  doing  a  great  deal 
of  thinking.  There  are  a  great  many  things  being  written 
which  don't  appear  in  the  papers,  and  which  the  public  don't 


J 


loo  persons,  places  aut>  flfceas. 

take  into  account,  but  some  day  all  this  educational  work, 
which  is  making  men  think  for  themselves  as  never  before, 
>\ill  tell,  and  the  world  no  less  than  h,ngland  will  be  sur 
prised  at  the  result;  but  here  we  are  at  tne  landing,  I  will 
remain  until  YOU  return;  don't  hurry." 

We  stepped  irom  the  boat  and  turned  our  faces  toward 
Eaton  Hall.  From  remarks  dropped,  which  space  forbids 
my  giving,  it  was  evident  that  our  cynical  philosopher  had 
been  reading  much  of  the  literature  of  social  democracy. 
He  gave  us  an  approximate  number  of  the  abandoned  farms, 
Together  with,  the  views  of  writers  of  considerable  reputa 
tion,  showing  that  the  shortsighted  course  of  England  in 
permitting  the  money-lending  classes  to  dictate  her  policy 
had  reacted  on  the  poor  at  home,  as  well  as  the  creditor 
nations  abroad,  and  thnt  even  the  landlords  were  now  suffer 
ing  in  consequence.  From  the  views  expressed  by  others, 
in  various  parts  of  England,  no  less  than  his  own 
statement  of  the  number  of  those  who  believed  as 
he  did,  I  became  deeply  impressed  with  the  conviction  that 
there  was  a  tremendous  undercurrent  of  discontent  in  Eng 
land.  Tens  of  thousands  have  lost  faith  in  the  politicians 
and  the  partisan  press  of  to-day.  They  are  reading  a  vast 
amount  of  literature  favoring  social  democracy,  and  I  be 
lieve  that  wrhile  the  pendulum  will  possibly  move  backward 
and  forward  for  a  time  between  Liberalism  and  Toryism 
yet  in  England  unless  there  arises,  at  an  early  date, 
some  statesman  with  the  sagacity  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  to 
meet  the  impending  crisis  as  he  met  the  Corn  Law  agitation, 
some  startling  changes  wall  take  place  in  this  island  before 
a  generation  passes. 

II.    The  Country  Seat  of  the  Duke  of  Westminster. 

The  roadway  to  Eaton  Hall  led  through  a  broad  expanse 
oi!  sparsely  wooded  land  beautifully  carpeted  with  velvety 
grass.  A  large  number  of  deer  were  feeding  near  the  road, 
but  took  no  notice  of  passing  visitors;  they  seemed  as 
tame  as  sheep  in  our  pastures.  Some  idea  of  the  extent  of 
the  Duke's  domain  may  be  gained  when  it  is  remembered 
that  the  park  in  which  the  palace  of  Eaton  Hall  is  situated 
is  eight  by  twelve  miles  in  area. 

We  first  entered  the  gardens;  a  scene  of  beauty  never  to 
be  forgotten  opened  before  us.  The  extensive  conserva 
tories  were  marvellous  in  their  color  effects,  and  although 
the  air  wras  tropical  and  heavy  with  mingled  perfumes  we 
were  tempted  to  linger  pome  lime  in  the  mid"t  of  the  artifi 
cially  tropical  region  in  which  the  prodigality  of  nature 


Strolls  Beson^  tbe  Walls  of  Cbesteto      101 


in  her  color  effects  was  so  conspicuous.  One  of  our  party 
observed  that  if  a  quantity  of  the  dowers  which  were  tailing, 
were  cut  and  daily  sent  to  the  sick  in  and  out  of  the  hospitals 
at  Chester  and  thereabouts,  the  cost  would  be  small,  while 
numbers  of  hearts  and  homes  \vould  be  brightened  and 
subtly  refined.  The  great  fruit  conservatories  were  also 
interesting;  here  peaches,  plums  and  pears,  no  less  than 
grapes,  were  trained  as  vines  along  great  walls  and  loaded 
with  their  luscious  products. 

"The  Duke  must  enjoy  the  flowers  and  fruit,"  I  suggested 
to  a  gardener. 

"He  is  not  here  much  of  the  time  to  enjoy  them/'  was 
the  reply;  "at  present  he  is  in  Scotland,  but  he  lives  in  Lon 
don,  and  is  here  but  a  few  months  in  the  year." 

Thinking  how  much  the  weary  invalids,  not  four  miles 
distant,  would  enjoy  the  luscious  peaches  and  grapes  which 
were  hanging  on  these  vines,  we  turned  into  the  palace, 
which  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  at  length,  contenting 
myself  writh  brief  descriptions  of  some  typical  rooms. 

Eaton  Hall  is  a  noble  edifice,  displaying  in  a  most  striking 
manner  what  the  resources  of  modern  art  can  do  wrhen  great 
wealth  is  at  command.  The  duke  is  said  to  be  the  richest 
nobleman  in  England.  He  has  certainly  expended  vast 
sums  in  the  most  lavish  manner  on  this  magnificent  country 
seat.  Probably  one  of  the  most  striking  rooms  of  the  pal 
ace  is  the  Grand  Saloon.  This  apartment,  which  in  reality 
is  an  extension  of  the  great  central  hall,  presents  a  most 
imposing  prospect  from  every  side,  impressing  the  visitor 
with  the  scale  of  grandeur  which  pervades  the  interior  of 
the  building  no  less  than  the  charm  of  nature,  heightened 
by  the  cunning  hand  of  art,  which  is  appreciated  the  mo 
ment  one  looks  out  of  the  great  windows  of  the  saloon.  A 
striking  feature  of  the  interior  decoration  is  H.  Stacy 
Mark's  panoramic  paintings  of  Chaucer's  "Canterbury  Pil 
grims."  The  strength  of  this  work  lies  in  the  marked  indi 
viduality  of  the  characters  represented  rather  than  in  its 
color  effects,  which  indeed  seemed  to  me  to  be  indifferent; 
the  artist,  however,  has  achieved  a  real  triumph  in  the  life 
like  qualitites  which  characterize  the  numerous  individuals 
represented.  The  vaulted  ceiling  of  the  room  will  attract 
the  attention  of  the  visitor  whether  or  not  he  feels,  as  I  did, 
that  it  was  somewhat  out  of  harmony  with  the  other  decora 
tions  in  the  room.  It  is  treated  after  an  East  Indian  desicrn, 
the  centre  being  a  representation  of  the  sun  surrounded  by 
stars,  all  treated  in  gold  on  an  azure  background.  The 
mantel-piece  in  this  apartment  is  especially  rich  and  effect- 


102  persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas. 

ive;  but  of  all  the  show  rooms  of  the  palace,  the  one  which 
impressed  me  as  being  the  most  harmonious  in  treatment 
as  it  was  also  the  most  attractive,  was  the  library.  This 
great  hall,  which  is  ninety-two  feet  in  length  and  thirty  feet 
in  width,  is  richly  furnished  and  contains  more  than  twelve 
thousand  volumes.  Two  immense  mantel-pieces  are  noble 
specimens  of  line  wood-work  and  are  in  perfect  keeping 
with  the  general  treatment  of  the  room,  which  throughout 
is  rich  and  delightfully  harmonious.  A  very  interesting- 
decorative  feature  is  found  in  five  large  historical  paintings 
by  Benjamin  West,  among  the  most  interesting  of  which  are 
Oliver  Cromwell  Dissolving  the  Long  Parliament,  Charles 
II  Landing  in  Dover,  and  The  Death  of  General  Wolfe  on 
the  Heights  of  Abraham.  In  this  connection  I  would  men 
tion  among  the  art  treasures  of  Eaton  Hall,  several  life- 
size  portraits  of  the  Grosvenor  family  executed  by  some  of 
the  most  eminent  portrait  painters,  including  Sir  John 
Millais — there  are  also  some  pictures  attributed  to  Rubens. 

Before  leaving  the  palace  wre  paused  for  the  second  time 
within  the  Chapel ;  here,  as  elsewhere,  we  were  impressed 
with  the  lavish  expenditure  of  money.  The  lofty  tower  of 
this  chapel  is  fully  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  in 
height;  it  contains  a  chime  consisting  of  twenty-eight  bells, 
the  largest  weighing  two  and  a  half  tons.  The  interior  of 
the  edifice  is  very  impressive  with  its  handsome  stained- 
glass  windows  through  which  the  sunlight  was  Hooding  the 
rich  furnishings  from  the  many  colored  panes. 

As  I  stood  there  I  wras  reminded  of  some  remarks  made  by 
our  philosopher  about  Jesus,  and  I  wondered  how  the  lowrly 
Nazarene,in  whose  honor  this  edifice  was  ostensibly  erected, 
would  have  felt  had  He  been  there  fresh  from  London, 
where  without  a  place  to  lay  His  head  He  had  shared  the  lot 
of  thousands  of  out-of-works  who  nightly  sleep  on  the  stone 
embankment  along  the  Thames.  I  knew,  judging  from 
the  life  He  lived  in  Palestine,  that  had  he  stood  in  the  aisles 
of  this  magnificent  chapel,  His  serene  brow  would  have 
borne  a  look  of  mingled  sorrow  and  indignation.  .1  fancied 
He  would  have  felt  something  of  the  unutterable  sadness 
which  He  experienced  when  he  wept  over  Jerusalem,  and 
something  of  the  withering  indignation  which  marked  His 
speech  when  He  uttered  His  terrible  "woes"  against  those1 
"who  devour  widow's  homes  and  for  a  pretence  make  long 
prayers." 

777".     Ilawarden  on  a  Fete  Day. 

During  our  stay  in  Chester  we  visited  Hawarden,  the 
home  of  William  E.  Gladstone,  the  man  whom  I  believe 


Strolls  Besonfc  tbe  Walls  of  Cbester.      103 


'to  be  the  most  ardently  loved  and  the  most  thoroughly 
feared  and  disliked  among  the  statesmen  of  England.  Ha- 
warden  is  six  miles  east  of  Chester  across  the  borders  of 
Wales,  and  the  visitor  who  takes  a  cab  or  the  tram-car 
passes  through  one  of  those  horrible  little  towns  which  are 
given  over  to  mining  or  manufacturing,  so  frequently  en 
countered  in  England.  The  sight  of  the  bare,  dirty  houses 
and  the  barren  aspect  of  things  on  every  side  cannot  fail  to 
cast  a  gloom  over  the  mind.  I  remember  that  the  oppres 
sion  occasioned  by  the  sight  of  this  town  spoiled  to  a  great 
degree  the  enjoyment  we  \vould  otherwise  have  derived 
from  the  beautiful  scenery  which  lay  beyond,  especially  the 
Welsh  hills,  clothed  in  that  purple  haze,  the  charm  of  which 
may  be  felt  but  can  never  be  described,  which  rose  in  the 
distance.  The  village  of  Hawarden  was  gorgeously  arrayed 
in  holiday  attire  in  honor  of  the  fete  at  Hawarden  manor- 
house,  and  throngs  were  constantly  arriving  from  remote 
parts  of  England,  reminding  one  of  pilgrims  visiting  the 
shrine  of  a  saint.  To  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  face  of  the 
"Grand  Old  Man"  seemed  to  be  a  "consummation  devoutly 
wished,"  and  if  perchance  the  visitor  might  hear  his  voice, 
that  indeed  would  be  something  for  him  to  dwell  upon  when 
he  reached  home  and  narrated  again  and  again  to  his  wife, 
his  children  and  the  more  or  less  envious  neighbors,  the 
story  of  this  great  event  in  his  sombre  life.  The  ardent 
admiration  entertained  by  thousands  of  visitors,  no  less  than 
the  enthusiasm  everywhere  manifested  by  the  inhabitants 
of  Hawarden,  contrasted  most  boldly  with  the  opinions  ex 
pressed  by  our  Diogenes  of  the  Dee. 

The  wonderful  magnetic  power  exerted  by  the  remarka 
ble  man  who  has  played  so  important  a  part  in  the  drama  of 
English  politics,  reminded  me  of  the  enthusiasm  which 
marked  the  campaign  when  Mr.  Elaine  ran  for  the  presi 
dency.  I  remember  that  while  the  press  of  Massachusetts 
was  anything  but  enthusiastic  in  his  support,  he  received 
such  an  ovation  when  he  spoke  in  Boston  as  few  men  have 
ever  enjoyed.  Henry  Clay  was  another  great  figure  in 
American  politics  W7ho  awakened  the  same  intense  enthu 
siasm  on  the  part  of  the  masses  which  Mr.  Elaine  exerted, 
during  the  aggressive  period  of  his  career,  and  which  Mr. 
Gladstone  has  long  wielded  throughout  England.  I  know 
of  no  living  statesman  who  calls  forth  anything  like  the 
same  degree  of  admiration,  confidence  and  love  of  his 
partisans  as  does  Mr.  Gladstone.  This  intense  loyalty, 
which  in  cases  almost  amounts  to  blind  devotion,  always 
begets  bitter  enmity.  The  Tories  of  England  make  a  very 
black  indictment  when  they  enumerate  the  real  or  supposed 


104  persons,  places 

shortcomings  of  the  idol  of  the  Liberals,  while  the  Social 
Democrats,  who  have  come  out  largely  from  the  Gladstone 
party,  and  which  I  think  are  rapidly  growing  in  numbers 
even  though  they  lack  as  yet  the  power  which  comes  wilii 
union  and  leadership,  regard  him  in  various  degrees  of  dis 
favor,  ranging  all  the  way  from  sincere  regret  that  he  can 
not  or  will  not  see  the  necessity  for  fundamental  social 
changes,  to  open  contempt,  no  less  marked  or  intense  than 
that  expressed  by  the  most  ultra  Tories. 

On  the  day  we  visited  Haw^arden  the  vast  multitude  which 
was  assembled  was  not  only  rewarded  by  seeing  Mr.  Glad 
stone  but  their  joy  wras  increased  by  hearing  him  deliver  a 
brief  address,  and  the  cup  of  joy  was  filled  to  overflowing 
wrhen  little  Dorothy  Drew,  the  petted  granddaughter  of  the 
great  statesman,  appeared  before  them  waving  her  handker 
chief  in  response  to  their  thunderous  applause.  I  regret 
that  it  was  impossible  for  us  to  see  the  aged  statesman 
owing  to  the  illness  of  one  of  our  party. 

Ha  warden,  like  Chester,  has  a  wonderful  history.  It  was 
a  Saxon  stronghold  before  the  Norman  conquest,  and  wras 
ceded  to  Hugh  Lupus  after  the  creation  of  the  earldom  of 
Chester.  Situated  almost  on  the  border  between  England 
and  Wales,  it  has  been  the  scene  of  many  exciting  and 
important  episodes  in  the  annals  of  English  history.  Tn 
1645  Charles  I  found  temporary  refuge  here  after  his  flight 
from  Chester,  but  the  castle  afterwards  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  Parliamentary  forces  and  was  subsequently  almost 
destroyed.  From  the  present  ruins,  wrhich  date  back  to  the 
thirteenth  century,  one  obtains  a  fine  view7  of  the  Dee  valley. 
For  a  period  of  two  hundred  years  Hawarden  belonged  to 
the  famous  Stanley  family,  but  subsequently  it  was  pur 
chased  by  Chief  Justice  Glynn,  and  in  1874  passed  into  the 
family  of  Mr.  Gladstone. 

The  old  castle  is  less  interesting,  perhaps,  than  the  pres 
ent  mansion  where  resides  the  eminent  Liberal  leader.  The 
great  library  of  Mr.  Gladstone  consists  of  more  than  ten 
thousand  volumes,  and  is  free  to  the  residents  of  Hawarden, 
who  have  merely  to  register  their  names  and  the  dates  w7hen 
they  borrow  the  volumes.  A  large  orphanage,  liberally 
supported  by  Mrs.  Gladstone,  is  found  a  short  distance 
from  the  mansion,  and  speaks  of  the  wyarm  heart  of  that 
most  estimable  lady.  The  park  in  which  the  castle  nnd 
modern  mansion  are  situated  is  exceedingly  beautiful,  mid 
contrasts  strongly  wTith  the  home  environments  of  the  voters 
who  go  to  make  up  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  Liberal  party 
of  England. 

That  Mr.  Gladstone  has  failed  to  jrrasp  the  real  meaning 


Strolls  Be^oufc  tbe  Malls  ot  Cbestet, 

and  significance  of  the  social  discontent  of  our  times,  I  think 
is  unquestionably  true;  that  he  has  failed  to  rise  to  the 
heights  which  would  have  enabled  him  to  see  the  rising  of 
the  new  social  order  which  must  replace  the  present  as 
surely  as  centralized  government  supplanted  feudalism,  is 
in  my  judgment  equally  obvious.  That  his  position  on  many 
questions,  as  woman's  enfranchisement  for  example,  is 
distinctly  opposed  to  the  onward  current  of  the  best  thought 
of  our  age  is  clearly  apparent;  but  that  in  spite  of  his  short 
comings  his  is  a  manly  and  noble  figure,  we  must  in  justice 
concede,  and  be  our  views  what  they  may  in  regard  to  Mr. 
Gladstone  as  a  statesman,  the  personal  and  home  life  of  the 
man  challenges  the  sincere  admiration  of  all  lovers  of  sturdi- 
ness  and  comparative  simplicity,  in  an  age  wThen  those  in 
elevated  stations  are  living  a  life  permeated  with  artificial 
ity  and  where  too  many  of  our  reputed  great  men  are  vying 
with  each  other  in  wanton  luxury  and  selfish  indulgence. 


Winter  2>a\>e  in  jflorifca  or  (Blimpses  of  life 
in  tbe  Xanb  of  tbe  flDagnolia,  tbe  ©range  anb 
tbe  palm. 


I  am  writing  by  an  open  window  overlooking  the  Halifax 
River.  On  the  opposite  bank,  somewhat  to  the  left,  is  Daytona, 
while  on  the  right  is  the  picturesque  hamlet  of  Holly  Hill, 
both  in  full  view.  It  is  the  8th  of  March,  and  the  weather  is 
ideal ;  a  delightful  breeze  has  been  blowing  since  daybreak ; 
the  air  is  soft  and  balmy  as  that  of  a  June  morning  in  the  North. 

At  eight  o'clock  this  morning  a  small  flotilla,  consisting  of  two 
modest-sized  steamboats,  two  naphtha  launches  and  a  sail-boat, 
passed  my  window.  They  came  from  Daytona  and  were  bound 
for  a  picturesque  little  fresh-water  stream  some  distance  north, 
which  bears  the  quaint  Indian  name  of  Tomoka.  The  merry 
shouts  and  rollicksome  laughter  which  came  from  the  excursion 
ists  indicated  that  the  multitudinous  cares,  anxieties  and  sorrows 
which  shadow  life  had  been  banished  for  a  few  hours,  and  that 
pleasure  and  the  beauties  of  nature  were  to  be  enjoyed  with  that 
wholesome  abandon  which  is  seen  only  when  man  escapes  from 
the  thraldom  of  conventionalism  and  draws  near  to  Nature. 

As  these  little  vessels,  freighted  with  human  loves,  hopes  and 
desires,  passed  from  view,  I  involuntarily  thought  of  that  long- 
departed  day  when  canoes,  carrying  the  careless  children  of 
another  race,  passed  to  and  fro  over  the  slow-moving  Halifax ; 
when  the  stalwart  red  man  trod  the  sands  by  the  sea,  fished  in 
the  ocean  and  the  river,  gathered  wild  fruit,  and  hunted  game  in 
the.  forests.  I  thought  of  that  distant  day,  now  about  four  cen 
turies  removed,  when  excited  warriors  brought  strange  stories 
of  the  coming  of  wonderful  men  from  over  the  sea,  whose  faces 
were  white,  whose  clothing  was  gay  as  the  flowers  which  car 
peted  the  forests,  and  who  claimed  to  be  messengers  of  the 


10f, 


I 

i  I 


Winter  H>aps  in  fflorifca.  109 

Great  Spirit.  Doubtless  some  who  heard  these  wonder  stories 
shook  their  heads  and  laughed  derisively,  for  human  nature  is 
the  same  in  all  ages.  Others  there  were  who,  wishing  to  probe 
the  mystery,  were  impatient  to  march  northward  in  search  of 
the  strangers,  who,  if  found,  were  to  be  interrogated,  that  they 
might  know  whether  the  god- men  came  as  friends  or  foes. 
There  were  lovers  then  as  now  upon  the  banks  of  the  Halifax 
River ;  and  I  doubt  not  that  many  an  Indian  maiden  heard  the 
strange  rumor  with  mingled  wonder  and  apprehension,  followed 
by  an  oppressive,  nameless  dread,  for  woman's  mind  is  ever 
more  intuitive  than  man's.  But  gone  are  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
this  people.  And  to-day  only  a  small  remnant  of  the  race  that 
hunted  and  fought  over  the  flower-decked  sands  of  Florida  remains. 
The  laughter  and  song  of  the  old  joyous  times  come  to  us  as  the 
perfume  of  their  legends,  and  little  more  than  tradition  and 
story  are  left,*  coupled  with  the  quaint  and  oftentimes  musical 
names  which  they  gave  to  rivers,  inlets  and  streams. 

The  Halifax  River  is  in  reality  a  tide-water  lagoon  of  half  a 
mile  in  width.  Into  its  waters  empty  many  fresh-water  streams 
which  are  exceedingly  beautiful.  The  Tomoka,  to  which  I  have 
alluded,  is  perhaps  the  most  popular.  Its  channel  is  sufficiently 
deep  ta  permit  boats  to  run  several  miles  up  its  narrow,  serpen 
tine  course.  At  a  picturesque  landing  a  few  miles  from  its 
mouth  a  large,  delightful  log-cabin,  with  an  immense  old- 
fashioned  fireplace,  has  been  built  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  scene 
of  tropical  tangle-wood  —  almost  a  jungle.  Here  picnic  parties 
may  be  seen  almost  daily  in  an  abandon  of  natural  enjoyment. 
Staid  men  of  business  and  women  of  brilliancy  and  culture  for 
get  the  solemn  dicta  of  conventionality  and  become  boys  and 
girls  again  for  a  few  brief  hours.  It  is  impossible  for  pen  or 
camera  to  do  justice  to  the  beauties  of  the  Tomoka.  And  yet 
this  stream  is  only  one  of  many  equally  picturesque  though  less 
navigable  which  empty  their  fresh  waters  into  the  salty  Halifax. 

Since  the  day  Ponce  de  Leon  landed  in  quest  of  the  Fountain 
of  Youth,  Spain,  France,  England  and  the  Republic  of  the  West 
have  claimed,  occupied,  fought  for,  or  sought  by  purchase  to  ob 
tain  this  home  of  the  magnolia,  the  orange  and  the  palm.  And 
yet  there  are  probably  few  places  which  at  first  sight  are  so  dis 
appointing  to  tourists  as  Florida.  The  absence  of  the  closely 
knit  grass  sod  of  the  North,  and  the  omnipresent  sand,  impress 
the  stranger  very  unfavorably. 

*A  few  only  of  Seminole  Indians  remain.  They  dwell  chiefly  in  the  extreme 
southern  part  of  the  inhabitable  region  of  Florida.  They  are  divided  into  small 
bands  of  a  few  scores  in  number,  the  small  remnants  of  once  mighty  tribes. 
These  bands  are  presided  over  by  chiefs  as  in  olden  days,  and  the  title  "in  some 
cases  seems  to  be  handed  down  from  father  to  son.  Thus,  one  band  is  to-day  ruled 
by  Tallahassee,  another  acknowledges  Tiger  Tails,  while  the  son  of  this  chief  is 
designated  Little  Tiger  Tails.  Sometimes  they  seem  to  borrow  appellations  from  the 
white  man  which  are  more  realistic  and  characteristic  than  romantic ;  thus  one  of 
the  chiefs  bears  the  name  of  Billy  Bowlegs. 


Winter  IDaps  in  fflorifca.  in 

The  winter  of  1895  will  long  be  remembered  as  a  most  disas 
trous  season  to  the  Floridans,  no  less  than  it  has  proved  disap 
pointing  to  Northern  tourists.  The  frosts,  being  the  most  severe 
known  for  over  half  a  century,  have  wrought  havoc  not  only 
with  the  more  tropical  fruits,  but  with  all  trees  belonging  to  the 
citron  family,  and  many  other  less  tropical  plants  have  suffered 
severely.  The  ever  present  groves  of  oranges,  grape-fruit,  limes, 
lemons  and  citrons,  guiltless  of  leaf,  flower  or  fruit,  tell  a  tragic 
story  of  loss  and  ruin  to  patient,  unremitting  industry ;  while  for 
the  tourist  the  state  without  the  beauty  of  the  orange  trees,  in 
their  glory  of  leaf,  flower  and  fruit,  is  shorn  of  one  of  its  chief 
attractions. 

On  previous  visits  to  Florida  my  most  southern  points  were 
St.  Augustine  and  Palatka.  This  winter  I  came  to  Daytona  and 
the  Halifax  Peninsula.  Here  the  destruction  wrought  by  the 
frost  is  everywhere  discernible,  but  it  has  failed  to  rob  this 
region  of  its  beauty.  The  tall  palmetto,  the  gaunt  live-oak, 
draped  in  southern  moss,  the  bay,  magnolia  and  pine,  together 
with  numerous  evergreens,  shrubs  and  underbrush,  clothe  the 
earth  in  green,  and  with  the  soft  and  balmy  atmosphere  make 
one  unconscious  that  it  is  yet  winter,  and  would  enable  us  to 
forget  the  frosts  of  the  past  few  months,  were  we  not  continually 
reminded  of  them  by  the  bare  branches  of  the  orange,  lemon  and 
lime  trees,  and  the  guava,  oleander  and  many  other  shrubs. 

Half  a  mile  from  where  I  am  writing  the  waves  of  the  ocean 
are  beating  against  the  most  magnificent  beach  it  has  been 
my  fortune  to  see.  This  morning  I  spent  some  time  upon  its 
warm  white  sands.  There  were  enough  clouds  floating  in  the 
sky  to  prevent  the  sun  from  being  unpleasant.  A  number  of  men 
and  women  were  revelling  in  the  delights  of  sea-bathing  in  water 
warmed  by  the  Gulf  Stream. 

The  ocean  ever  exerts  a  strange,  un definable,  fascinating  influ 
ence  over  my  mind.  I  never  tire  of  watching  its  ever  changing 
aspects  or  listening  to  its  soft  crooning,  its  impressive  murmur 
ing,  its  solemn  warning,  its  mad  threatening  and  its  measureless 
fury.  To-day,  after  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  the  sea-bathers,  I 
seated  myself  upon  the  sand  and  yielded  to  the  fascinating  spell  of 
the  ocean,  and  as  the  lights  and  shadows  fell  upon  the  waves  I  was 
reminded  of  Victor  Hugo's  description  of  the  sea,  when  an  exile 
on  the  coast  of  Guernsey,  and  I  felt  the  kinship  of  soul  and  the 
subtle  relation  of  man  to  nature  as  those  fine  descriptive  lines 
came  into  my  mind  in  which  the  poet  speaks  of  the  ocean,  "  with 
its  ebb  and  flood,  the  inexorable  going  and  coming,  the  noise  of 
all  the  winds,  the  blackness  and  translucency  peculiar  to  the 
deep ;  the  democracy  of  the  clouds  in  full  hurricane  ;  the  won 
derful  star  risings,  reflected  in  mysterious  agitation  by  millions 


•5*%< 
A<^ 


Winter  Ba^s  in  fflortoa,  119 

of  luminous  wave-tops  —  confused  heads  of  the  multitudinous 
sea  —  the  prodigious  sobbings,  the  half-seen  monsters,  the  nights 
of  darkness  broken  by  howlings  ;  then  the  charm,  the  mildness, 
the  gay  white  sails,  the  songs  amid  the  uproar,  the  mists  rising 
from  the  shore,  the  deep  blue  of  sky  and  water,  the  useful  as 
perity,  the  bitter  savor  which  keeps  the  world  wholesome,  the 
harsh  salt  without  which  all  would  putrefy ;  that  all-in-one,  un 
foreseen,  and  changeless;  the  vast  marvel  of  inexhaustibly  varied 
monotony."  I  know  of  no  finer  characterization  of  the  varying 
moods  of  the  ocean  than  these  graphic  lines ;  and  if  one  is  seated 
upon  the  beach  or  in  view  of  the  sea  their  full  force  comes  home 
to  the  brain  in  an  indescribably  vivid  manner. 

The  beach,  which  extends  along  the  Halifax  Peninsula  in  one 
unbroken  stretch  for  over  twenty  miles,  is  destined  to  be  one  of 
the  most  famous  in  the  Western  World.  It  is  one  long,  contin 
uous  slope  of  smooth,  white  sand,  so  firmly  packed  by  the  incom 
ing  and  outgoing  waves  that  along  the  lower  slopes  it  is  almost 
as  firm  as  an  asphalt  pavement,  and  thus  affords  unsurpassed 
facilities  for  driving  and  bicycling.  At  high  tide,  and  especially 
after  the  sea  has  been  rough,  numerous  many-tinted  shells,  from 
the  nautilus  and  conch  to  the  tiny  sea  clams,  whose  many  tinted 
protecting  cases  are  not  unlike  two  petals  of  a  dahlia's  blossom,  are 
strewn  along  the  line  which  marks  the  water's  highest  limit;  but 
below,  the  sand  is  smooth  and  firm.  Early  dawn,  the  reflected 
glory  of  the  sunsets,  the  moonlight  effects,  and  the  mystery  which 
ever  seems  a  part  of  the  darkness  of  the  deep  are  never-ending 
sources  of  pure  delight  to  all  artistic  natures.  I  have  seen 
nothing  which  equalled  the  splendor  of  the  ocean  and  sky  at 
such  times,  except  at  Ostend  on  the  North  Sea. 

But,  while  speaking  of  sunsets,  I  cannot  forbear  mentioning 
the  gorgeous  panoramas  which  I  have  witnessed  almost  nightly 
on  the  Halifax  River.  Here  in  the  foreground  we  have  the  tall 
palmettos,  so  thoroughly  tropical  in  their  appearance,  and  the 
gaunt  live-oaks,  draped  in  southern  moss,  very  beautiful,  but  pre 
senting  a  somewhat  weird  appearance.  Beyond  lies  the  river, 
smooth  as  glass  and  half  a  mile  in  width,  and  on  the  further 
side  the  forests  of  palmetto,  oak,  pine  and  other  trees,  inter 
spersed  with  villas,  and  behind  that  the  flame  of  the  setting  sun, 
varied  from  time  to  time  with  marvellous  cloud  effects ;  the 
wonderful  reflections  in  the  water,  iridescent  and  luminous,  re 
vealing  various  shades  of  russet  and  gold,  scarlet  and  crimson, 
silver  and  blue, —  all  combine  to  make  scenes  of  beauty  so 
entirely  transcending  words  that  in  their  presence  one  desires 
silence,  that  the  mind  may  yield  to  the  exquisite  pleasure  and 
feel  the  mystic  spell  of  the  divine,  inspired  by  these  matchless 
symphonies  of  color. 


Winter  2>aps  in  ffiorifca.  123 

The  sea-beach  opposite  Halifax,  and  due  east  of  Daytona, 
affords  delightful  bathing  all  the  year  round.  I  noticed  through 
February  that  the  waters  which  are  warmed  by  the  Gulf  Stream 
were  of  a  delightful  temperature,  far  warmer  than  I  have  known 
the  Atlantic  even  in  midsummer  on  the  Massachusetts  coast; 
and  many  persons  availed  themselves  of  the  opportunities  for 
surf-bathing.  But  this  is  an  all-the-year-round  beach ;  it  is  rap 
idly  becoming  the  most  popular  summer  resort  for  Floridans  of 
means.  For  at  Halifax,  Sea  Breeze  and  Silver  Beach,  which 
extend  along  the  Peninsula  opposite  Daytona,  not  only  is  the 
bathing  all  that  could  be  desired,  but  the  breezes  from  the  ocean 
and  the  river  keep  the  atmosphere  delightfully  tempered  in  summer 
and  render  the  nights  invariably  cool  and  refreshing.  This  is  the 
universal  testimony  of  all  who  have  summered  here. 

A  very  interesting  colony  of  liberal-minded  thinkers  is  being 
established  at  Halifax,  under  the  direct  auspices  of  Helen  Wil- 
man  Post,  the  well-known  leader  of  the  evolutionary  school  of 
metaphysical  thinkers;  Mr.  C.  C.  Post,  the  able  author  of 
"  Driven  from  Sea  to  Sea,"  "  Congressman  Swanson,"  and  other 
thoughtful  social  and  economic  studies  ;  and  Mr.  C.  A.  Ballough, 
a  fine  large-hearted  nature,  whose  sincerity  and  frankness  are  only 
equalled  by  his  passion  for  justice.  These  people  are  building 
what  will  probably  some  day  be  known  as  the  "  City  Beautiful," 
with  broad  avenues  and  boulevards,  made  hard  with  shells, 
grassed  on  either  side  and  lined  with  palmettos  and  other  sub 
tropical  trees.  The  experiment  is  unique,  and  will,  I  believe,  re 
sult  in  bringing  to  this  wonderfully  favored  spot  many  men  and 
women  of  culture  and  refinement,  whose  taste  and  means  will 
further  beautify  the  place,  which  is  inviting  in  summer  and  winter 
alike,  and  upon  which  nature  has  bestowed  so  much  in  the  way 
of  beauty  and  attractiveness. 

Daytona  lies  one  mile  from  the  ocean,  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
Halifax.  It  is  reached  from  the  beach  by  fine  shell  drivewaj^s 
which  cross  the  half  mile  of  thePeninsula,andtwo  bridges  which 
span  the  river.  Of  Daytona  it  is  difficult  to  say  too  much  when 
describing  the  beauty  of  the  place.  I  have  never  seen  a  town 
of  like  size  which  impressed  me  as  being  so  beautiful.  Its 
houses,  for  the  most  part,  evince  excellent  taste.  They  are 
modern,  and  are  kept  well-painted  and  in  first-class  repair.  In 
these  respects  it  contrasts  most  favorably  with  the  majority  of 
Southern  towns;  and  its  streets  and  some  of  the  roads  lead 
ing  from  the  town  are  made  of  marl  or  shells  and  consequently 
are  smooth  and  hard.  A  strip  of  land  grassed  and  carpeted  with 
wild  flowers  extends  between  the  street- way  and  the  sidewalk,  and 
along  these  are  planted  palms,  live-oaks,  magnolia  and  other  ever 
green  trees.  I  know  of  no  boulevard  more  bewitchingly  beauti- 


THE   PALMETTO   IX   BLOSSOM. 


Wfrxter  Bass  in  fflorifca,  127 

ful  than  Ridgewood  Avenue  in  Daytona,  with  its  great  live-oaks, 
heavily  draped  in  Southern  moss,  its  palmettos,  magnolias  and 
other  varieties  of  semi-tropical  trees,  which  form  a  deeply  shaded 
vista,  while  on  either  side  are  beautiful  and  well-kept  homes. 
Volusia  Avenue,  and  indeed  all  the  streets  excepting  Beach, 
where  at  present  extensive  improvements  are  being  made  on  the 
water  front,  are  models  of  neatness  and  as  beautiful  as  they  are 
striking  to  the  Northern  eye,  unaccustomed  to  tropical  vege 
tation. 

Before  closing  this  paper  I  must  say  a  word  about  the  flow 
ers  and  fruits  for  which  Florida  is  justly  noted.  The  varieties 
of  flowering  trees  and  shrubs,  as  magnolia,  orange,  palmetto 
and  oleander,  are  very  numerous,  and  though  the  sands  of  this 
state  are  unfriendly  to  most  kinds  of  grasses,  it  can  truthfully 
be  said  that  they  favor  the  multitudinous  flowers  of  many  colors 
and  gorgeous  hues  which  flourish  in  wood  and  field.  On  the 
Halifax  Peninsula  the  chief  fruits  have  been  the  orange,  lime, 
lemon,  grape-fruit,  citrons,  kumquat,  guava,  mulberry,  Japanese 
plums,  strawberries,  mulberries,  peaches,  pears  and  grapes. 
Some  pineapples  and  bananas  are  also  raised  here,  but  these 
flourish  better  further  south,  where  are  found  in  abundance  the 
cocoanut  and  bread-fruit. 

Florida  has  been  frequently  termed  the  Italy  of  America.  I 
do  not  think  the  points  of  resemblance  are  sufficient  to  warrant 
the  appellation.  Both  lands  are  peninsulas,  extending  south 
ward;  each  can  lay  claim  to  a  mild  and  genial  climate,  pro 
tected  from  the  severity  of  the  northern  blasts,  and  tempered  in 
summer  by  the  ocean  breezes;  each  can  boast  of  being  the  home 
of  the  citron  family  and  other  semi-tropical  fruits ;  but  when  we 
come  to  note  the  points  of  difference  between  the  peninsula 
which  has  so  largely  moulded  our  present  civilization  and  our 
own  Land  of  Flowers,  I  think  we  shall  find  far  more  instances 
in  which  they  are  radically  unlike  than  those  in  which  there  is 
any  substantial  likeness.  Yet  each  holds  charms  peculiar  to  it 
self,  and,  with  regard  to  Florida,  I  think  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
in  spite  of  her  recent  disaster  her  star  is  rising. 

I  will  close  this  sketch  with  a  charming  little  poem  written 
by  Mr.  C.  C.  Post  and  entitled 

MOONLIGHT    OX    THE    HALIFAX. 

Night  on  the  river.    The  moon  rides  high. 
The   sea-breeze  whispers,   the   pine  trees  sigh, 

The  reeds  on  the  river  banks  are  aquiver. 
And  the  clouds  are  like  dreams  in  the  moonlit  sky. 
A  girdle  of  diamonds  in  silver  set. 
Crossed   and   'broidered  with  bands  of  jet, 
From  the  other  shore  where  the  palm-trees  stand 
Is  clasped  at  my  feet  by  the  shining  sand. 


l-'LOWKHS   OF    I'LOIUOA.      TIIK   OKANGK    BLOSSOM. 


FLOWERS    OF    FLORIDA.      MAGNOLIA    IJLOSSO.MS. 


130  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 


And  over  the  waters  of  silver  and  jet, 
And   between   the   banks   where   the   palm-trees   rise, 
Float  other  clouds,  like  the  clouds  in  the  skies — 

Float  white-winged  boats  with  their  light  sails  set. 

And   lovers  clasp   hands   'neath   the   white   sails   set, 
And  loves  are  told,  and  a  beautiful  dream 
Of  life  afloat  on  love's  beautiful  stream 

Is  dreamed,  as  they  sail  through  the  silver  and  jet. 

And  I  say  it  is  well  that  the  moon  rides  high; 
Well  that  fleecy  clouds  fleck  the  moonlit  sky; 
That  the  river  is  banded,  with  diamonds  set, 
Embossed  and  embroidered  in  silver  and  jet; 
Well  that  tall  palms  on  its  banks  arise; 
Well  that  the  pine  tree  whispers  and  sighs; 
That  the  tide  lifts  up,  with  its  furtherest  reach, 
Its  lips,  to  the  shells  on  the  shining  beach; 
That  lovers,  afloat  on  its  waters,  seem 
Forever  afloat  on  love's  beautiful  stream — 
And  'tis  well  that  I  sit  by  the  river  and  dream. 


IReligions  Gbougbt  in  Colonial  Z>a\>0  as  fllMr= 
rorefc  in  poetry  ant>  Song, 


THE  transition  of  religious  thought  from  the  austere 
severity  of  the  Reformation  and  the  unquestioning  ac 
ceptance  of  papal  authority,  which  marked  a  still  earlier 
period,  to  the  broad  and  truly  catholic  principles  of  moral 
government  enunciated  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  is 
becoming  more  and  more  pronounced  with  the  passage  of 
each  succeeding  decade.  But  so  gradual  has  been  the  drift 
ing  that  a  vast  majority  of  thoughtful  people  within  the 
pales  of  the  Church  are  scarcely  conscious  of  the  change ; 
much  less  do  they  appreciate  how  surely  the  still  small  voice 
from  the  nameless  mount  in  Galilee  is  overpowering  the 
thunderous  tones  of  Nicsea  in  Bithynia,  which  for  more 
than  fifteen  centuries  have  controlled  Christendom.  Indeed, 
this  grand  transformation  is  being  accomplished  so  naturally 
and  so  steadily  that  it  is  only  at  intervals,  when  some 
great  divine  in  a  popular  church  dares  to  think  aloud,  and 
voice  that  which  is  felt  in  the  inmost  soul  of  thoughtful 
people,  that  a  ripple  is  caused  on  the  placid  water  —  a  ripple 
which  extends  from  mind  to  mind  in  an  ever-broadening 
circle ;  as,  for  example,  when  so  eminent  a  churchman  as 
Canon  Farrar  declares  in  favor  of  restoration ;  a  master 
brain  like  Professor  Briggs  announces  that  man  may  find 
God  through  the  Bible,  the  Church,  or  through  REASON; 
when  a  leading  divine  like  Dr.  Lyman  Abbott  pronounces  in 
favor  of  Evolution  ;  or  yet,  again,  when  a  great  church  like 
the  Methodist,  after  a  severe  battle  for  the  infallibility  of 
New  Testament  inspiration,  relegates  the  Pauline  injunction 
respecting  women  to  its  proper  place  among  the  dead  and 
outgrown  ideas  of  ancient  Grecian  thought.  At  such  inter 
vals  as  these,  religious  circles  are  for  a  time  more  or  less 
convulsed;  but  a  few  years  vanish,  and  the  disturbers  are 
canonized.  Meanwhile  humanity  continues  a  steady,  unin 
terrupted  ascent. 


131 


132  persons,  places  auo  Ufceas. 

The  spiritual  growth  of  our  people  reminds  me  of  a  trav 
eller,  journeying  from  the  sea  toward  some  lofty  mountain 
range ;  for  many  miles  the  ascent  is  so  gradual  that  he  is 
unconscious  of  any  material  rise.  After  passing  a  few  low 
hill  ranges  he  is  aroused  to  the  fact  that  he  is  rising  materi 
ally  above  the  wave-washed  lowlands.  It  is  not,  however, 
until  he  turns  toward  the  sea,  and  casts  a  glance  into  the 
far  distance,  that  the  fact  that  the  ocean  is  many  thousands 
of  feet  below  him,  dawns  on  his  mind.  In  like  manner,  so 
gradual,  so  natural,  so  irresistible  have  been  the  complex  and 
multitudinous  causes  which  have  lifted  Christian  thought  to 
a  higher  and  diviner  plane  that  it  is  only  by  examining 
ancient  landmarks  that  we  can  fully  appreciate  the  progress 
which  has  been  made.  Perhaps  nothing  will  better  illustrate 
this  fact  than  poetry  and  hymnology  of  the  past,  and  no 
spot  affords  a  more  striking  illustration  of  this  evolution  of 
Christian  thought  than  New  England.  The  hymns  which 
were  sung  with  great  fervor  and  feeling  two  hundred  years 
ago,  and  the  poetry  which  found  greatest  favor  with  the 
stern,  Puritanical  spirit  of  that  age,  thrills  the  average 
Christian  of  to-day  with  horror ;  and  it  is  difficult  for  him 
to  believe  that  any  considerable  number  of  persons  ever 
believed  that  at  the  helm  of  the  universe  stood  a  Being 
so  relentlessly  despotic,  so  cruelly  savage  as  the  God  our 
fathers  most  devoutly  worshipped  and  in  whom  they  had 
most  implicit  faith.  Poems  exceedingly  popular  among 
ultra-religionists  two  centuries  ago,  would  be  branded  impious 
and  sacrilegious  by  almost  all  Christians  to-day,  as  will  be 
readily  seen  when  we  examine  some  specimens  of  the  poetry 
and  sacred  songs  which  were  not  only  current  but  exceed 
ingly  popular. 

One  of  the  most  famous  clergymen  who  flourished  in 
Massachusetts  in  the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century 
was  Rev.  Michael  Wigglesworth,  a  graduate  of  Harvard 
University  and  the  author  of  numerous  widely  read  theolog 
ical  works  in  prose  and  poetry.  His  most  celebrated  poetical 
work  was  entitled  "  The  Day  of  Doom,"  u  a  poem  of  the 
last  judgment."  The  first  edition  of  this  work  consisted 
of  eighteen  hundred  copies,  which  wa«  exhausted  within 
a  year  of  its  publication ;  something  very  remarkable  when 
it  is  remembered  that  books  were  rare  in  those  days, 
and  New  England  was  sparsely  settled.  The  first  edition, 


IReli^ious  ZTbougbt  in  Colonial  Bass* 

however,  was  only  sufficient  to  whet  the  appetites  of  our 
colonial  fathers.  The  work  reflected  perfectly  the  con 
ception  which  a  very  large  number  of  devout  people  enter 
tained  of  God ;  hence  edition  after  edition  was  quickly  sold. 
Not  less  than  nine  editions  of  this  work  were  sold  in  New 
England  in  early  times.  It  was  also  twice  republished  in 
England.  From  a  commercial  point  of  view  it  was  the  most 
remarkable  success  in  the  history  of  colonial  literature,  as  it 
is  stated  that,  next  to  the  Bible  and  the  almanac,  more  copies 
of  "  The  Day  of  Doom "  were  sold  than  of  any  other  work 
in  colonial  times.  This  success  must  have  rested  chiefly  on 
the  popularity  of  the  thought  contained,  as,  aside  from  weird 
poetic  flashes  now  and  then  present,  the  literary  quality  of 
the  work  is  far  below  mediocrity.  The  book  was  bound  in 
sheep  exactly  like  the  binding  employed  for  Bibles  and 
hymn-books  of  the  period.  Each  page  bore  marginal  notes, 
giving  the  passages  of  Scripture  which  suggested  the  scene 
described.  With  these  facts  in  mind,  let  us  examine  some 
verses  from  the  poem.  In  the  opening  lines  Mr.  Wiggles- 
worth  describes  the  Judgment  Day :  — 

Before  his  throne  a  trump  is  blown, 

Proclaiming  the  day  of  doom : 
Forthwith  he  cries,  "  Ye  dead  arise, 

And  unto  the  judgment  come." 
No  sooner  said,  but  'tis  obeyed; 

Sepulchres  opened  are: 
Dead  bodies  all  rise  at  his  call, 

And's  mighty  power  declare. 

The  saved  are  then  judged,  or  rather  their  salvation  is  thus 
described :  — 

My  sheep  draw  near,  your  sentence  hear,  which  is  to  you  no  dread, 
Who  clearly  now  discern,  and  know  your  sins  are  pardoned. 
'Twas  meet  that  ye  should  judged  be,  that  so  the  world  may  spy 
No  cause  of  grudge,  when  as  I  judge  and  deal  impartially. 
Know  therefore  all,  both  great  and  small,  the  ground  and  reason  why 
These  men  do  stand  at  my  right  hand,  and  look  so  cheerfully. 
These  men  be  those  my  Father  chose  before  the  world's  foundation, 
And  to  me  gave,  that  I  should  save  from  death  and  condemnation. 

The  elect  having  thus  been  disposed  of,  Jesus  turns  to 
those  who  were  not  of  the  company  chosen  for  Him  by  God 
before  "  the  world's  foundation."  After  dealing  with  various 
classes  of  sinners  in  a  manner  which  might  well  excite  the 
envy  of  an  Oriental  despot  whose  heart  had  long  been  steeled 


134  persons,  places  anfc  1Ifceas. 

against  all  the  divine  emotions,  Christ  proceeds  to  judge 
those  whose  lives  had  been  pure,  holy,  honest  and  upright, 
but  whose  greatness  of  soul  had  rendered  it  impossible  for 
them  to  grovel  before  a  God  represented  by  His  most  zealous 
followers  as  infinitely  more  brutal  and  cruel  than  the  worst 
man  born  of  woman.  The  scene  described  is  characteristic  of 
the  thought  of  the  age,  and  when  reading  it  one  ceases  to 
wonder  that  -witches  were  Imng  in  Salem,  or  that  Roger 
Williams  was  banished  from  the  Massachusetts  Colony ;  for 
a  firm  belief  in  such  a  God  would  naturally  inspire  persecu 
tion.  This  is  the  picture  as  seen  through  the  poetical 
spectacles  of  the  reverend  gentleman  :  — 

Then  were  brought  nigh  a  company  of  civil,  honest  men 

That   loved  true   dealing,  and   hated   stealing,  ne'er  wrong'd  their 

brethren ; 

Who  pleaded  thus,  "  Thou  knowest  us  that  we  were  blameless  livers; 
No  whoremongers,  no  murderers,  no  quarrellers  nor  strivers." 

Jesus  admits  that  they  have  been  all  they  claim,  but 
proceeds : — 

And  yet  that  part,  whose  great  desert  you  think  to  reach  so  far 
For  your  excuse,  doth  you  accuse,  and  will  your  boasting  mar. 
However  fair,  however  square  your  way  and  work  hath  been, 
Before  men's  eyes,  yet  God  espies  iniquity  therein. 
You  much  mistake,  if  for  their  sake  you  dream  of  acceptation: 
Whereas  the  same  deserveth  shame  and  meriteth  damnation. 

This  picture  of  infinite  injustice,  however,  pales  into  in 
significance  before  what  follows.  Dr.  Wigglesworth  had  a 
case  to  make  out;  it  was  a  bad  case;  it  outraged  every 
instinct  of  justice  and  love  in  the  fibre  of  manhood,  but  he 
had  the  audacity  bravely  to  face  the  issue ;  and  though  we 
cannot  praise  his  logic,  we  are  forced  to  admire  his  courage. 
This  is  the  fate  he  describes  awaiting  millions  of  little  buds 
of  humanity  who  passed  from  life  in  infancy :  — 

Then  to  the  bar,  alLthey  drew  near  who  dy'd  in  infancy, 

And  never  had  or  good  or  bad  effected  pers'nally. 

But  from  the  womb  unto  the  tomb  were  straightway  carried, 

Or  at  the  last  e'er  they  transgrest  who  thus  began  to  plead: 

If  for  our  own  transgression,  or  disobedience, 

We  here  did  stand  at  thy  left  hand,  just  were  the  recompense; 

But  Adam's  guilt  our  souls  hath  spilt,  his  fault  is  charg'd  on  us: 

And  that  alone  hath  overthrown,  and  utterly  undone  us. 

Not  we,  but  he  ate  of  the  tree,  whose  fruit  was  interdicted: 

Yet  on  us  all  of  his  sad  fall,  the  punishment's  inflicted. 


Ubou^bt  in  Colonial  H>ass.        135 

How  could  we  sin  that  had  not  been,  or  how  is  his  sin  our 
Without  consent,  which  to  prevent,  we  never  had  a  pow'r  ? 

0  great  Creator,  why  was  our  nature  depraved  and  forlorn  ? 
Why  so  defil'd,  and  made  so  vil'd  whilst  we  were  yet  unborn? 
Behold  we  see  Adam  set  free,  and  sav'd  from  his  trespass, 
Whose  sinful  fall  hath  spilt  us  all,  and  brought  us  to  this  pass. 
Canst  thou  deny  us  once  to  try,  or  grace  to  us  to  tender, 

When  he  finds  grace  before  thy  face,  that  was  the  chief  offender? 

Jesus  is  then  represented  as  replying  in  the  following 
language :  — 

What  you  call  old  Adam's  fall,  and  only  his  trespass, 
You  call  amiss  to  call  it  his,  both  his  and  yours  it  was. 
He  was  design'd  of  all  mankind,  to  be  a  publick  head, 
A  common  root,  whence  all  should  shoot,  and  stood  in  all  their  stead. 
He  stood  and  fell,  did  ill  or  well,  not  for  himself  alone, 
But  for  you  all,  who  now  his  fall,  and  trespass  would  disown. 
If  he  had  stood,  then  all  his  brood,  had  been  established 
In  God's  true  love  never  to  move,  nor  once  awry  to  tread: 
Would  you  have  griev'd  to  have  receiv'd  through  Adam  so  much  good, 
As  had  been  your  for  evermore,  if  he  at  first  had  stood  ? 
Since  then  to  share  in  his  welfare,  you  could  have  been  content, 
You  may  with  reason  share  in  his  treason,  and  in -the  punishment. 
You  sinners  are,  and  such  a  share  as  sinners  may  expect, 
Such  you  shall  have;  for  I  do  save  none  but  my  own  elect. 
Yet  to  compare  your  sin  with  their  who  liv'd  a  longer  time, 

1  do  confess  yours  is  much  less,  though  every  sin's  a  crime. 
A  crime  it  is,  therefore  in  bliss  you  may  not  hope  to  dwell; 
But  unto  you  I  shall  allow  the  easiest  room  in  hell. 

The  glorious  king  thus  answering,  they  cease,  and  plead  no  longer: 
Their  consciences  must  needs  confess  his  reasons  are  the  stronger. 

Having  disposed  of  the  sheep  and  goats,  the  worthy  divine 
next  lingers  on  the  field  of  victory  and  despair  much  as  a 
bee  lingers  over  the  honey  cup  of  a  fragrant  flower.  While 
his  observations  were  intended  to  illustrate  the  majesty  and 
vengeance  of  offended  Deity,  they  cannot  be  considered 
complimentary  to  either  the  head  or  heart  of  Jesus. 

Now  what  remains,  but  that  to  pains  and  everlasting  smart, 
Christ  should  condemn  the  sons  of  men,  which  is  their  just  desert; 
Oh  rueful  plights  of  sinful  wights!  oh  wretches  all  forlorn: 
'T  had  happy  been  they  ne'er  had  seen  the  sun,  or  not  been  born. 
Yea,  now  it  would  be  good  they  could  themselves  annihilate, 
And  cease  to  be,  themselves  to  free  from  such  a  fearful  state. 
O  happy  dogs,  and  swine  and  frogs:  yea, serpent's  generation, 
Who  do  not  fear  this  doom  to  hear,  and  sentence  of  damnation  I 
Where  tender  love  men's  hearts  did  move  unto  a  sympathy, 
And  bearing  part  of  others'  smart  in  their  anxiety; 
Now  such  compassion  is  out  of  fashion,  and  wholly  laid  aside: 
No  friends  so  near,  but  saints  to  hear  their  sentence  can  abide, 


136  persons,  places  anfc  tlfceas. 

The  godly  wife  conceives  no  grief,  nor  can  she  shed  a  tear 

For  the  sad  fate  of  her  clear  mate,  when  she  his  doom  doth  hear. 

He  that  was  erst  a  husband  pierc'd  with  sense  of  wife's  distress, 

Whose  tender  heart  did  bear  a  part  of  all  her  grievances, 

Shall  mourn  no  more  as  heretofore  because  of  her  ill  plight; 

Although  he  see  her  now  to  be  a  damn'd  forsaken  wight. 

The  tender  mother  will  own  no  other  of  all  her  numerous  brood, 

But  such  as  stand  at  Christ's  right  hand  acquitted  through  his  blood. 

The  pious  father  had  now  much  rather  his  graceless  son  should  lie 

In  hell  with  devils,  for  all  his  evils,  burning  eternally, 

Than  God  most  high  should  injury,  by  sparing  him  sustain; 

And  doth  rejoice  to  hear  Christ's  voice  adjudging  him  to  pain. 

Who  having  all  both  great  and  small,  convinc'd  and  silenced, 

Did  then  proceed  their  doom  to  read,  and  thus  it  uttere'd. 

Ye  sinful  wights,  and  cursed  sprites,  that  work  iniquity, 

Depart  together  from  me  forever  to  endless  misery; 

Your  portion  take  in  yonder  lake,  where  fire  and  brimstone  flameth: 

Suffer  the  smart,  which  your  desert  as  its  due  wages  claimeth. 

What?  to  be  sent  to  punishment,  and  flames  of  burning  fire, 

To  be  surrounded,  and  eke  confounded  with  God's  revengeful  ire! 

What?  to  abide,  not  for  a  tide  these  torments,  but  forever: 

To  be  released,  or  to  be  eased,  not  after  years,  but  never. 

Oh  fearful  doom!  now  there's  no  room  for  hope  or  help  at  all: 

Sentence  is  past  which  aye  shall  last,  Christ  will  not  it  recall. 

There  might  you  hear  them  rend  and  tear  the  air  with  their  outcries : 

The  hideous  noise  of  their  sad  voice  ascendeth  to  the  skies. 

They  wring  their  hands,  their  caitiff  hands,  and  gnash  their  teeth  for 

terrour; 
They  cry,  they  roar  for  anguish  sore,  and  gnaw  their  tongues  for 

horrour. 

But  get  away  without  delay,  Christ  pities  not  your  cry: 
Depart  to  hell,  there  may  you  yell,  and  roar  eternally. 
Dy  fain  they  would,  if  dy  they  could,  but  death  will  not  be  had. 
God's  direful  wrath  their  bodies  hath  for  ev'r  immortal  made. 
But  who  can  tell  the  plagues  of  hell, 

The  lightest  pain  they  there  sustain  more  than  intolerable. 
But  God's  great  pow'r  from  hour  to  hour  upholds  them  in  the  fire, 
That  they  shall  not  consume  a  jot,  nor  by  its  force  expire. 

Can  the  imagination  of  enlightened  man  in  this  day  con 
ceive  anything  more  ferociously  barbarous  and  inhuman  or 
unjust  than  this  picture  of  the  judgment  and  yet  the  phe 
nomenal  success  of  this  poem  is  a  most  eloquent  commen 
tary  on  the  attitude  of  religious  thought  in  Massachusetts 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  enables  us  better  to  under 
stand  a  public  sentiment  which  tolerated  the  Blue  Laws  or 
permitted  cruel  religious  persecution.  The  hymns  of  this 
age  were  also  in  perfect  touch  with  this  frightful  system  of 
thought;  and  though  the  progress  of  eliminating  those 


1Reli3ious  Ubougbt  In  Colonial  Ba^s,       137 

which  voiced  the  most  savage  and  brutal  conception  has 
been  steadily  carried  on  as  humanity  grew  in  intelligence 
and  enlightenment,  and  as  the  diviner  instinct  became  more 
potent,  it  has  not  been  long  since  hymns  which  any  wise  and 
loving  Deity  might  reasonably  regard  as  blasphemous  were 
sung  with  great  zeal  by  those  who  believed  they  were  the 
very  elect  of  heaven.  I  have  in  my  possession  two  volumes 
of  Dr.  Watts'  hymns,  edited  by  Rev.  Samuel  Worcester, 
D.D.,  and  Samuel  M.  Worcester,  A.M.  —  one  published  in 
1850,  the  other  in  1853  by  Crocker  and  Brewster  of  Boston, 
which  well  illustrate  the  tenacity  with  which  the  savage 
conception  of  God  held  its  place  in  the  Church.  In  these 
volumes  we  find  hymns  breathing  forth  hate  in  every  line ; 
hymns  in  which  the  singers  are  represented  as  craven,  in 
sane  and  terrified  culprits,  striving  to  appease  a  relentlessly 
cruel  God,  uttering  fulsome  flattery  in  one  breath  and  dilat 
ing  on  His  infinite  vengeance  in  the  next.  To  the  thought 
ful  reader  at  the  present  time,  these  hymns  seem  more  like 
the  incoherent  ravings  of  madmen  than  the  utterances  of 
sane  reasoning  beings.  Indeed,  it  is  a  marvel  to  me  that 
all  who  possessed  loving  hearts  and  active  brains,  and  who 
believed  in  this  nightmare  of  eternal  despair,  did  not  be 
come  madmen.  Take,  for  example,  the  following :  — 

My  thoughts  on  awful  subjects  roll, — 

Damnation  and  the  dead ; 
What  horrors  seize  the  guilty  soul, 

Upon  a  dying  bed. 

Ling'' ring  about  these  mortal  shores, 

She  makes  a  long  delay; 
Till,  like  a  flood  with  rapid  force, 

Death  sweeps  the  wretch  away. 

Then,  swift  and  dreadful  she  descends 

DcHvn  to  the  fiery  coast, 
Amongst  abominable  fiends, 

Herself  a  frighted  ghost. 

There  endless  crowds  of  sinners  7ze, 

And  darkness  makes  their  chains: 
Tortur'd  with  keen  despair,  they  cry; 

Yet  wait  for  fiercer  pains. 

Xot  all  their  anguish  and  their  blood 

For  their  old  guilt  atones ; 
Xor  the  compassion  of  a  God 

Shall  hearken  to  their  groans . 


138  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

Here  is  another  companion  hymn :  — 

With  holy  fear,  and  humble  song, 
The  dreadful  God  our  souls  adore; 
llev'rence  and  awe  become  the  tongue, 
That  speaks  the  terrors  of  His  power. 
Far  in  the  deep,  where  darkness  dwells, 
The  land  of  horror  and  despair, — 
Justice  has  built  a  dismal  hell, 
And  laid  her  stores  of  vengeance  there. 

Eternal  plagues  and  heavy  chains, 
Tormenting  racks  and  fiery  coals,— 
And  darts,  1'  inflict  immortal  pains, 
Dy'd  in  the  blood  of  damned  souls. 
There  Satan,  the  first  sinner,  lies, 
And  roars,  and  bites  his  iron  bands; 
In  vain  the  rebel  strives  to  rise, 
Crushed  with  the  weight  of  both  thy  hands. 

Their  guilty  ghosts  of  Adam's  race 
Shriek  out,  and  howl  beneath  thy  rod: 
Once  they  could  scorn  a  Saviour's  grace, 
But  they  incens'd  a  dreadful  God. 
Tremble,  my  soul,  and  kiss  the  Son: 
Sinner,  obey  thy  Saviour's  call; 
Else  your  damnation  hastens  on, 
And  hell  gapes  wide  to  wait  your  fall. 

Below,  the  pious  author  of  a  once  popular  hymn,  found  in 
the  collection  before  referred  to,  gives  us  a  graphic  pen  pict 
ure  of  God  as  seen  by  his  mental  vision :  — 

His  nostrils  breathe  out  fiery  streams; 

And,  from  his  awful  tongue, 
A  sovereign  voice  divides  the  flames, 

And  thunder  rolls  along. 

Think,  O  my  soul,  the  dreadful  day, 

When  this  incensed  God 
Shall  rend  the  sky,  and  burn  the  sea, 

And  fling  his  wrath  abroad ! 

What  shall  the  wretch,  the  sinner  do  ? 

He  once  defied  the  Lord! 
But  he  shall  dread  the  Thunderer  now, 

And  sink  beneath  his  word. 

Tempests  of  angry  fire  shall  roll, 

To  blast  the  rebel  worm,— 
And  beat  upon  his  naked  soul 

In  one  eternal  storm. 


1Relt0ious  UbouGbt  in  Colonial  Baps,        139 

Original  sin  and  the  degradation  of  manhood,  the  direct 
opposite  of  the  incoming  religious  thought  of  to-day,  were 
favorite  themes  with  the  hymnologist  of  other  days.  Let 
us  imagine  our  great  congregations  of  to-day  singing  the 
following :  — 

Backward,  with  humble  shame  we  look 

On  our  original; 
How  is  our  nature  dashed,  and  broke, 

In  our  first  father's  fall! 

To  all  that's  good   averse,  and  blind, 

And  prone  to  all  that's  ill ; 
What  dreadful  darkness  veils  our  mind! 

How  obstinate  our  will ! 

Conceived  in  sin,  O  wretched  state, 

Before  we  draw  our  breath, 
The  first  young  pulse  begins  to  beat 

Iniquity  and  death. 

How  strong  in  our  degenerate  blood 

The  old  corruption  reigns! 
And  mingling  with  the  crooked  flood, 

Wanders  through  all  our  veins! 

Wild  and  unwholesome,  as  the  root, 

Will  all  the  branches  be : 
How  can  we  hope  for  living  fruit, 

From  such  a  deadly  tree  ? 

What  mortal  power,  from  things  unclean 

Can  pure  productions  bring  ? 
Who  can  command  a  vital  stream, 

From  an  infected  spring  ? 

These  examples  of  the  poetry  which  enjoyed  wonderful 
popularity,  and  voiced  the  austere  religious  thought  of 
colonial  days,  may  help  us  to  appreciate  the  ocean-wide 
expanse  between  the  dominant  religious  thought  at  the  time 
when  Cotton  Mather  delivered  his  eulogy  over  the  body  of 
Rev.  Michael  Wigglesworth  and  the  present,  when  the  pas 
tor  of  the  most  famous  Congregational  church  in  America 
declares  in  favor  of  evolution,  and  a  learned  professor  in 
one  of  the  greatest  Presbyterian  theological  colleges  pub 
licly  affirms  that  men  can  no  longer  shut  their  eyes  to  the 
fact  that  "  the  Bible  contains  errors  which  no  man  has  been 
able  to  explain  away  *  and  also  that  there  are  three  sources 

*  Inaugural  address  by  C.  A.  Briggs,  on  authority  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.    Charles 
Scribners'  Sons. 


140  persons,  places  anfc  Hfceas, 

or  fountains  of  divine  authority,  "  The  Bible,  the  Church, 
and  Reason."  So  gradually,  however,  has  this  wonderful 
evolution  taken  place,  and  so  multitudinous  have  been  the 
educational  agencies  which  have  steadily  lifted  man  into  a 
higher  sphere  of  thought,  that  it  is  only  when  we  examine 
the  history  and  literature  of  a  vanished  age  that  we  are  able 
to  appreciate  the  progress  which  has  been  accomplished,  or 
properly  appreciate  the  spirit  of  the  past.  Religion  is  evolv 
ing  as  is  humanity.  What  was  orthodoxy  yesterday  is  blas 
phemy  to-day.  What  is  heterodoxy  to-day  is  orthodoxy  to 
morrow.  The  history  of  religious  evolution  is  a  tedious  and 
often  disheartening  narrative,  and  so  also  is  the  story  of 
life's  evolution  and  the  rise  of  man  from  the  savagery  of 
Central  Africa  to  the  development  of  a  Hugo ;  but  the  story 
in  each  instance  is  inspiring,  for  the  trend  is  upward.  The 
star  goes  before.  The  road  ever  leads  to  higher  altitude. 
Jesus  came,  a  luminous  life,  radiant  with  love,  rich  in  divine 
pity,  and  strong  in  moral  grandeur ;  but  His  simple  teaching 
soon  became  mazed  in  Grecian  philosophical  and  metaphor 
ical  thought  and  colored  with  the  many-hued  opinions  of  the 
Roman  world.  Doubtless  this  was  owing  to  the  fact  that 
humanity  was  not  yet  ready  for  the  divinely  simple  code  of 
ethics  which  Jesus  lived  as  well  as  taught.  The  idea  of 
human  brotherhood,  which  was  a  central  principle  in  His 
teachings,  and  which  was  nowhere  better  exemplified  than 
in  His  life,  has  had  small  influence  over  the  world,  but  to 
day  it  is  taking  hold  of  the  hearts  of  the  thinking  millions 
as  never  before.  Literature  is  rife  with  the  thought.  It 
may  be  said  to  be  the  dream  of  the  millions ;  and  the  very 
presence  of  this  dream  as  much  as  aught  else  affords  a  rea 
son  for  the  unrest  and  discontent  of  the  age,  which  chafes 
under  galling  bonds,  the  injustice  and  inhumanity  of  which 
were  not  appreciated  until  this  divine  ideal  came  into  the 
lives  of  the  people.  Some  good  people  to-day  yearn  for  the 
religious  atmosphere  of  colonial  days,  seeing  in  them  only 
the  enchantment  and  glamour  which  distance  not  infre 
quently  lends  to  scenes  rugged,  harsh  and  revolting,  and  not 
reflecting  that  religious  thought  of  the  kind  and  character 
which  inspired  our  fathers,  naturally  gave  birth  to  narrow 
ness,  bigotry,  intolerance  and  persecution.  Indeed,  to-day 
among  those  who  are  now  giving  their  attention  to  the  out 
side  of  the  "  cup  and  platter,"  and  who  seek  to  restore  the 


Ubougbt  in  Colonial 

ancient  Sabbath,  we  see  the  same  spirit  of  persecution  and 
determination  to  force  every  one  to  boiv  to  their  conception  of 
what  is  right  which  enthralled  human  thought,  crushed 
human  rights,  destroyed  human  happiness,  and  checked  the 
march  of  progress  and  intellectual  development  for  genera 
tions.  It  may  have  been  necessary  for  humanity  to  pass 
through  this  dark  stage  in  her  development ;  but  to  attempt 
to  resurrect  the  past  and  mingle  its  spirit  with  the  present, 
would  be  to  chain  a  corpse  to  the  living,  to  make  turbid  the 
clear  flowing  stream  of  pure  religion  by  injecting  into  its 
limpid  waves  the  blood-dyed  current  of  a  savage  and  unde 
veloped  past.  The  new  conception  of  religion  is  grandly  noble. 
It  holds  as  a  cardinal  truth  the  doctrine  of  human  brotherhood. 
It  squares  all  things  by  absolute  justice.  There  is  no  old-time 
terror  in  its  glance  as  it  peers  into  the  future,  and  even  if  at 
times  it  doubts,  it  does  not  dread  ;  it  is  established  in  the  con 
viction  that  the  trend  of  life  is  upward.  If  God  is  love,  and 
if  God  is  spirit,  He  will  draw  all  souls  by  the  magnetic  at 
traction  of  love  unto  His  own  pure  heights,  as  the  sun  calls 
from  the  ground  the  budding  plant  and  by  its  wonderfully 
subtle  power  calls  from  it  stores  of  wealth  in  bloom  and  fruit. 
It  recognizes  every  law  based  on  absolute  and  unswerving 
justice,  and  expects  no  miraculous  interposing  to  save  any 
man  from  the  result  of  sin,  crime,  or  vice,  which  it  holds  to 
be  as  inevitable  as  the  law  which  holds  in  place  the  plane 
tary  system ;  but  it  eliminates  all  Oriental  ideas  of  a  venge 
ful  despot  controlling  a  world  of  eternal  torment  awaiting 
any  soul  who  may  have  in  his  being  the  germ  of  immortal 
life.  The  new  idea  is  leavening  society;  but  to-day,  as  in 
the  days  of  Jesus,  it  is  most  potent  outside  the  temples  of  con 
servatism.  It  appeals  to  the  common  people  and  to  the  intel 
lectually  emancipated  with  irresistible  force ;  while  those  who 
are  enslaved  within  the  walls  of  form,  rite  and  conventional 
ism,  and  they  who  to-day  correspond  to  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees  of  Jesus'  time  vainly  attempt  to  stay  its  onward 
sweep.  The  forces  which  are  working  for  the  new  ideals  in 
religion  are  as  numerous  as  they  are  resistless.  They  will 
triumph  in  the  coming  day,  and  in  their  triumph  we  shall  see 
a  higher  and  truer  civilization  than  has  yet  visited  the  world 
—  a  civilization  in  which  ethics  will  be  married  to  intelli 
gence,  and  LOVE  instead  of  craft  will  pulse  through  the  soul 
of  enlightened  man. 


Some  Social  flbeals  1bel£>  b\>  IDictor  Ibucjo, 


FOE  many  generations  to  come  the  writings  of  Victor  Hugo 
will  inspire  man  in  his  struggle  for  a  larger  and  truer  life,  because 
they  are  vivified  by  conscience.  They  are  more  than  the  works 
of  an  intellectual  genius;  the  quality  of  human  sympathy  is 
everywhere  present,  while  not  infrequently  the  prophet  or  seer 
presents  fundamental  facts  in  which  the  lessons  of  history  and 
the  wisdom  which  alone  can  exalt  humanity  are  condensed  into 
a  few  electric  sentences  which  thrill  the  heart  and  burn  great 
truths  into  the  reader's  brain. 

All  subjects  affecting  the  happiness  of  man  or  the  elevation  of 
the  race  were  as  personal  to  Hugo  as  though  they  vitally  con 
cerned  his  dearest  friend.  Thus  when  the  news  reached  Europe, 
that  sentence  of  death  had  been  passed  on  John  Brown, the  poet 
was  affected  as  though  his  own  son  had  been  condemned.  He  im 
mediately  wrote  an  appeal  for  the  prisoner's  pardon,  as  eloquent 
and  prophetic  as  it  was  earnest  and  impressive.  In  it  he  uttered 
these  words,  which  are  thoroughly  characteristic  of  the  man  and 
his  work :  "  Has  a  cry  of  pity  time  to  make  itself  heard  ?  It 
matters  not,  our  duty  is  to  raise  our  voice." 

On  May  13,  1839,  while  witnessing  "La  Esmeralda"  in  a 
Parisian  theatre,  word  was  brought  to  Hugo  that  Barbes  had  been 
condemned  to  death  for  the  part  he  had  taken  in  an  insurrection. 
Hurriedly  entering  the  green  room,  the  poet  wrote  a  few  lines  to 
Louis  Philippe,  making  a  touching  allusion  to  the  death  of  the 
little  Princess  Mary  and  the  recent  birth  of  the  Comte  de  Paris 
This  appeal  for  the  pardon  of  a  fellow-man  was  as  follows  :  — 

Oh,  by  the  child  that  is  gone,  fled  away  like  a  dove, 
Oh,  by  the  prince  that  is  born,  and  claims  your  sweet  love, 
The  tomb  and  the  cradle  their  messages  send, 
Be  gracious!  show  mercy!  and  pardon  extend. 

The   message   moved   the  king  to  tears,  and   the   petition  was 
granted. 

These  illustrations  reveal  the  breadth  or  universality  of  the 
poet's  sympathy.  Humanity  in  misery  or  sorrow  ever  moved 
him  with  that  divine  mother-love  impulse  which  is  the  keynote 

142 


Social  Ufceals  of  IHictor  Ifougo.  143 

in  the  anthem  of  humanity's  redemption.  "  Les  Miserables"  is 
more  than  one  of  the  noblest  works  of  fiction  which  the  world 
possesses,  it  is  a  remarkable  social  study,  a  prayer  for  a  higher 
ideal  of  justice,  a  heart-cry  for  a  more  humane  public  spirit,  a 
noble  picture  of  the  divine  in  man  and  of  the  possible  evolution 
of  the  child  of  an  adverse  fate  from  an  embittered  Ishmaelite  to 
the  personification  of  a  noble  manhood,  made  luminous  by  loving 
self-sacrifice.  But  Victor  Hugo  went  much  farther  than  merely 
stating  unjust  conditions  and  portraying  the  actual  working  of 
unjust  laws.  He  had  an  intellectual  breadth  rare  among  prophets 
and  reformers,  which  enabled  him  fully  to  appreciate  the  im 
portance  of  employing  multitudinous  agencies  in  order  to  correct 
the  monstrous  social  evils  which  exile  joy  and  crush  out  hope. 

He  was  not,  however,  blind  to  the  fact  that  there  are  certain 
broad  lines  upon  which  civilization  must  move  if  justice,  happi 
ness  and  progress  are  to  wait  upon  her  footsteps.  He  knew  that 
tyranny  might  reside  elsewhere  than  in  royal  palaces,  and  that 
despotism  was  as  fatal  to  happiness  and  development  if  it  mani 
fested  itself  through  a  narrow,  intolerant  popular  spirit  as  if  it 
emanated  from  a  throne.  He  realized  that  the  brain  of  man 
must  not  be  fettered  by  the  slavery  of  a  mediocrity  which  still 
worshipped  in  the  graveyard  of  the  past,  with  its  face  turned 
away  from  the  dawn.  In  a  word,  he  saw  with  prophet  vision 
that,  freedom  must  always  be  the  handmaid  of  justice;  that  liberty 
cannot  be  exiled  from  the  side  of  progress  if  the  happiness  and 
the  moral  and  intellectual  development  of  men  are  to  mark  the 
new  time  which  his  keen  perception  clearly  discerned,  and  for 
the  early  advent  of  which  he  labored  with  unflagging  energy. 
This  truth  is  of  paramount  importance  at  the  present  time,  for 
civilization  is  facing  a  social  revolution  which  will  mark  a  new 
era  for  man,  provided  thoughtful  and  sincere  reformers,  who  love 
justice  more  than  they  value  their  lives,  are  wise  enough  to  see 
that  no  threads  of  a  possible  despotism  enter  the  fabric  of  the 
new  social  order.  This  danger  was  perfectly  apparent  to  Victor 
Hugo,  and  he  frequently  pointed  out  the  all-important  truth  that 
lasting  progress  without  freedom  is  an  utter  impossibility:  — 

He  who  is  not  free  is  not  a  man.  He  who  is  not  free  has  no  sight,  no 
knowledge,  no  discernment.  Freedom  is  the  apple  of  the  eye,  the 
visual  organ  of  progress,  and  to  attempt,  because  freedom  lias  inconven 
iences  and  even  perils,  to  produce  civilization  without  it,  would  be  like 
attempting  to  cultivate  the  ground  without  the  sun. 

In  the  presence  of  the  grave  social  wrongs  which  oppress  the 
people  on  every  hand,  there  is  danger  that  shallow  expediency 
may  at  times  come  between  the  public  and  the  ideal  of  progress 
which  is  waited  upon  by  freedom  no  less  than  justice;  and  this 
can  be  averted  only  by  holding  firmly  to  those  things  which  are 


144  persons,  places  au& 

so  fundamentally  right  that  they  compass  the  full  requirements 
of  justice  without  destroying  the  free  development  of  the  indi 
vidual.  Victor  Hugo,  though  one  of  the  most  ardent  and  radical 
social  reformers  of  his  day,  uttered  a  solemn  note  of  warning 
along  this  line  thirty  years  ago.  He  pointed  out  the  danger  lurk 
ing  in  the  theories  of  a  school  of  socialistic  thinkers  who  went  to 
the  barrack  for  a  pattern  of  government,  instead  of  recognizing 
the  root  source  of  social  misery  and  removing  it  by  the  estab 
lishment  of  just  conditions,  while  guarding  liberty  and  fostering 
individual  development.  On  this  point,  which  impresses  me  as 
being  of  transcendent  importance,  he  made  the  following  thought 
ful  observations,  thus  setting  forth  his  conception  of  true  social 
ism  and  avowing  himself  to  be  a  socialist  * :  — 

What  an  aim  —  to  construct  the  people!  Principles  combined  with 
science,  all  possible  quantity  of  the  absolute  introduced  by  degrees  into 
the  fact,  Utopia  treated  successively  by  every  mode  of  realization  —  by 
political  economy,  by  philosophy,  by  physics,  by  chemistry,  by  dynamics, 
by  logic,  by  art;  union  gradually  replacing  antagonism,  and  unity  re 
placing  union;  for  religion, God,  for  priest,the  father,  for  prayer, virtue, 
for  field,  the  whole  earth,  for  language,  the  word,  for  law,the  right,  for 
motive-power, duty,  for  hygiene,labor,  for  economy,  universal  peace,  tor 
canvas,  the  very  life,  for  the  goal,  progress,  for  authority,  freedom,  for 
people  the  man.  Such  is  the  simplification.  And  at  the  summit  the 
ideal.  The  ideal!  —  stable  type  of  ever-moving  progress. 

The  transformation  of  the  crowd  into  the  people  —  profound  task! 
It  is  to  this  labor  that  the  men  called  socialists  have  devoted  themselves 
during  the  last  forty  years.  The  author  of  this  book,  however  insignifi 
cant  he  may  be,  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  this  labor.  "  The  Last  Day  of  a 
Condemned  Prisoner"  dates  from  1828,  and  "Claude  Geux"  from  1834. 
If  he  claims  his  place  among  these  philosophers  it  is  because  it  is  a 
place  of  persecution.  A  certain  hatred  of  socialism,  very  blind  but  very 
general,  has  raged  for  fifteen  or  sixteen  years,  and  is  still  raging  most 
bitterly  among  the  influential  classes.  Let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  true 
socialism  has  for  its  end  the  elevation  of  the  masses  to  the  civic  dignity, 
and  that,  therefore,  its  principal  care  is  for  moral  and  intellectual  culti 
vation.  The  first  hunger  is  ignorance;  socialism  wishes,  then,  above  all, 
to  instruct.  That  does  not  hinder  socialism  from  being  calumniated 
and  socialists  from  being  denounced.  To  most  of  the  infuriated  trem 
blers  who  have  the  public  ear  at  the  present  moment,  these  reformers 
are  public  enemies;  they  are  guilty  of  everything  that  has  gone  wrong. 
***** 

Certain  social  theories,  very  distinct  from  socialism  as  we  understand 
it  and  desire  it,  have  gone  astray.  Let  us  discard  all  that  resembles  the 
convent,  the  barrack,  the  cell  and  the  straight  line.  To  give  a  new  shape 
to  the  evil  is  not  a  useful  task.  To  remodel  the  old  slavery  would  be  stupid. 
Let  the  nations  of  Europe  beware  of  a  despotism  made  anew  from  mate 
rials  which  to  some  extent  they  have  themselves  supplied.  Such  a 
thing,  cemented  with  a  special  philosophy,  might  easily  endure.  We 
have  mentioned  the  theorists  —  some  of  them  otherwise  upright  and 
sincere  —  who,  through  fear  of  a  dispersion  of  activities  and  energies, 

*  These  quotations  are  taken  from  different  parts  of  Victor  Hugo's  wonderful  work 
"  William  Shakespeare,"  an  excellent  translation  of  which  has  been  made  by  Prof.  M. 
B.  Anderson  and  published  by  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.,  Chicago,  111. 


Social  flfceals  ot  tHictor  Ibucjo,  145 

and  of  what  they  call  "anarchy,"  have  arrived  at  an  almost  Chinese 
acceptance  of  absolute  social  centralization.  They  turn  their  resigna 
tion  into  a  doctrine.  Provided  man  eats  and  drinks,  all  is  right.  The 
happiness  of  the  beast  is  the  solution.  But  this  is  a  happiness  which 
others  might  call  by  a  different  name. 

We  dream  for  nations  something  besides  a  felicity  made  up  solely  of 
obedience.  The  bastinado  sums  up  that  sort  of  felicity  for  the  Turkish 
fellah,  the  knout  for  the  Russian  serf,  and  the  cat-o' -nine-tails  for  the 
English  soldier.  Let  these  involuntary  philosophers  of  a  possible  despot 
ism  reflect  that  to  indoctrinate  the  masses  against  freedom,  to  allow  appe 
tite  and  fatalism  to  get  a  hold  upon  the  minds  of  men,  to  saturate  them 
ivith  materialism  and  expose  them  to  the  results  —  this  would  be  to  under 
stand  progress  in  the  fashion  of  that  worthy  man  who  applauded  a  new 
gibbet  and  exclaimed,  "Excellent!  We  have  had  till  now  only  an  old 
wooden  gallows;  but  times  have  changed  for  the  better,  and  here  we 
are  with  a  good  stone  gibbet,  which  will  do  for  our  children  and  our 
grandchildren! " 

The  issue  involved  is  so  momentous  that  the  profound  truths 
uttered  in  this  warning  should  receive  that  calm,  thoughtful  con 
sideration  which  characterizes  true  statesmanship  and  marks  the 
prophet  who  is  also  a  philosopher. 

While  pleading  eloquently  for  breadth  and  a  due  appreciation 
of  liberty  when  reformers  sought  to  bring  about  a  wider  measure 
of  justice,  Victor  Hugo  recognized  the  necessity  for  a  union  of 
those  who  loved  humanity,  truth  and  progress,  against  en 
throned  and  soulless  conservatism.  "  At  the  point  now  reached 
by  the  social  question,"  he  exclaims,  "all  action  should  be  in 
common.  Isolated  forces  frustrate  one  another.  The  hour  has 
struck  for  hoisting  the  '  All  for  all.'  "  Another  thought  impres 
sively  presented  by  our  author  was  the  sacred  trust  imposed  by 
duty  upon  high-thinking  men  and  women.  There  are  those  in 
life  to-day  who  much  resemble  the  hyena,  the  tiger,  the  fox,  the 
vulture  and  the  cormorant.  There  are  others  who  are  drones  in 
the  hive  of  life.  Perhaps  we  cannot  reach  these  persons  by 
appeals  to  conscience  any  more  than  we  can  the  spaniels  who 
fawn  at  the  feet  of  avarice,  but  men  and  Avomen  of  conscience 
will  find  themselves  thrilled  by  these  noble  words :  — 

To  live  is  to  have  justice,  truth,  reason,  devotion,  probity,  sincerity, 
common  sense,  right  and  duty  welded  to  the  heart.  To  live  is  to  know 
what  one  is  worth,  what  one  can  do  and  should  do.  Life  is  con 
science.  .  .  . 

There  is  something  beyond  satisfying  one's  appetite.  The  goal  of 
man  is  not  the  goal  of  the  animal.  A  moral  lift  is  necessary.  The  life 
of  nations,  like  the  life  of  individuals,  has  its  moments  of  depression; 
These  moments  pass,  certainly,  but  no  trace  of  them  ought  to  remain. 
Man,  at  this  day,  tends  to  fall  into  the  stomach;  man  must  be  replaced 
in  the  heart,  man  must  be  replaced  in  the  brain.  The  brain  —  this  is  the 
bold  sovereign  that  must  be  restored !  The  social  question  requires 
to-day,  more  than  ever,  to  be  examined  on  the  side  of  human  dig 
nity.  .  .  . 

Thought  is  power.  All  power  is  duty.  Should  this  power  enter  into 
repose  in  our  age  ?  Should  duty  shut  its  eyes  ?  And  is  the  moment 


146  persons,  places  aufc  Ufceas* 

come  for  art  to  disarm  ?  Less  than  ever.  .  .  .  The  human  caravan  has 
reached  a  high  plateau;  and,  the  horizon  being  vaster,  art  has  more  to 
do.  This  is  all.  To  every  widening  of  the  horizon,  an  enlargement  of 
conscience  corresponds.  We  have  not  reached  the  goal.  Concord  con 
densed  into  felicity,  civilization  summed  up  in  harmony  —  that  is  yet 
far  off.  ... 

Great  is  he  who  consecrates  himself!  Even  \vhen  overcome  he  re 
mains  serene,  and  his  misfortune  is  happiness.  Xo,  it  is  not  a  bad  thing 
for  the  poet  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with  duty.  Duty  has  a  stern  like 
ness  to  the  ideal.  The  task  of  doing  one's  duty  is  worth  undertaking; 
truth,  honesty,  the  instruction  of  the  masses,  human  liberty,  manly 
virtue  and  conscience  —  these  are  not  things  to  disdain.  Indignation 
and  compassion  for  the  mournful  slavery  of  man  are  but  two  sides  of  the 
same  faculty;  those  who  are  capable  of  wrath  are  capable  of  love.  To 
level  the  tyrant  and  the  slave  —  what  a  magnificent  endeavor !  Now  the 
whole  of  one  side  of  actual  society  is  tyrant,  and  all  the  other  is  slave. 
A  grim  settlement  is  impending,  and  it  will  be  accomplished.  All 
thinkers  must  work  with  that  end  in  view. 

Consecration  of  self  to  the  cause  of  human  brotherhood  —  that 
is  the  august  duty  which  confronts  the  awakened  conscience. 
The  poet  points  out  the  supreme  need,  and  then  places  the  re 
sponsibility  on  the  individual.  This  is  not  pleasant  to  the  self- 
loving  nature.  It  is  easy  to  place  the  blame  elsewhere,  but  until 
each  individual  has  made  the  great  renunciation,  until  each  has 
striven  to  the  uttermost,  by  working,  by  talking,  by  voting,  by 
writing,  and  in  every  way  possible,  to  overthrow  present  unjust 
conditions  and  usher  in  a  new  day  of  peace  and  concord,  of  hope, 
of  justice  and  freedom,  a  weight  of  guilt  rests  on  the  soul.  Duty 
calls  to  the  conscience.  It  is  the  old  cry,  "  Who  is  on  the  Lord's 
side  ?  " 

Nor  is  it  a  time  when  the  responsibility  can  be  shifted.  If  a 
thief  is  robbing  your  neighbor,  you  have  no  right  to  close  your 
eyes  and  remain  silent ;  if  a  murderer  is  approaching  the  bed  of 
a  brother  man,  your  conscience  is  not  quit  of  guilt  if  you  hold 
your  peace;  if  a  virgin  is  being  polluted  and  there  is  a  possibility 
that  you  can  save  her  from  contamination,  great  is  your  guilt  if 
you  refrain.  Now  those  hideous  wrongs  are  daily  taking  place 
through  the  operation  of  infamously  unjust  social  and  economic 
conditions  which  can  be  abolished.  And  what  is  more,  the  vic 
tims,  instead  of  being  three,  constitute  a  mighty  commonwealth, 
made  up  largely  of  the  world's  wealth  producers.  He  who  closes 
his  eyes  at  a  tragic  moment  like  the  present,  when  unjust  con 
ditions  are  driving  strong  men  to  suicide,  making  paupers  of 
thousands,  and  placing  before  struggling  maidenhood  the  dread 
alternative  of  starvation  or  prostitution,  may  well  expect  to  rind 
blood  on  his  soul  when  he  passes  into  the  to-morrow  of  life. 

To  those  who  prefer  to  live  rather  than  to  exist,  to  those  who 
love,  dream  and  aspire,  to  those  who  are  haunted  with  an  ideal, 
Victor  Hugo  delivered  a  message  couched  in  these  burning  words, 


Social  Ufceals  of  THictor  fwgo.  147 

which  comprehend  a  great  renunciation  —  the  dedication  of  one 
self  to  the  service  of  humanity :  — 

Let  us  consecrate  ourselves.  Let  us  devote  ourselves  to  the  good,  to 
the  true,  to  the  just.  .  .  .  The  function  of  thinkers  in  our  day  is  com 
plex.  It  is  no  longer  sufficient  to  think  —  one  must  love.  It  is  no  longer 
sufficient  to  think  and  to  love  —  one  must  act.  To  think,  to  love  and  to 
act  is  no  longer  sufficient  —  one  must  suffer.  .  .  .  The  future  presses. 
To-morrow  cannot  wait.  Humanity  has  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Quick! 
quick!  let  us  hasten.  The  wretched  hunger,  they  thirst,  they  suffer. 
Alas!  terrible  emaciation  of  the  poor  human  body.  There  is  too  much 
privation,  too  much  poverty,  too  much  immodesty,  too  much  nakedness, 
too  many  houses  of  shame,  too  many  convict  prisons,  too  many  tatters, 
too  many  defalcations,  too  many  crimes,  too  much  darkness;  not  enough 
schools;  too  many  little  innocents  growing  up  for  evil!  The  pallet  of 
the  poor  girl  is  suddenly  covered  with  silk  and  lace,  and  in  that  is  the 
worst  misery;  by  the  side  of  misfortune  there  is  vice,  the  one  urging  on 
the  other.  Such  a  society  requires  prompt  succor.  Let  us  seek  out  the 
best.  Civilization  must  march  forward;  let  us  test  theories,  systems, 
ameliorations,  inventions,  reforms. 

But  before  all,  above  all,  let  us  be  lavish  of  the  light.  All  sanitary 
purification  begins  by  opening  the  windows  wide.  Let  us  open  wide  all 
intellects;  let  us  supply  souls  with  air.  Let  the  human  race  breathe. 
Shed  abroad  hope,  sow  the  ideal,  do  good.  One  step  after  another, 
horizon  after  horizon,  conquest  after  conquest:  because  you  have  given 
what  you  promised,  do  not  hold  yourself  quit  of  obligation.  To  perform 
is  to  promise.  To-day's  dawn  pledges  the  sun  for  to-morrow. 


postering  tbe  Savage  in  tbe  !)oung* 


SINCE  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  the  most  advanced  and 
humane  minds  of  the  world  have  looked  to  the  United  States  to 
set  an  example  of  true  civilization,  by  insisting  on  the  settlement 
of  all  international  disputes  in  which  the  republic  was  concerned 
by  arbitration,  thus  emphasizing  the  supremacy  of  something 
higher  than  the  reign  of  brute  force,  which  disregards  the  sanctity 
of  human  life  and  tires  the  most  savage  instincts  in  man. 

There  were  many  reasons  why  it  was  fitting  that  the  great 
Republic  should  enjoy  the  proud  distinction  of  taking  the  initia 
tive  in  the  inauguration  of  an  era  of  universal  peace.  We  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  Europe,  as  the  great  powers  are,  tiger-like, 
watching  one  another.  England  knows  full  well  that  if  she  should 
declare  war  against  America,  she  might  expect  Russia  to  execute 
her  generation-long  dream  of  Indian  conquest.  If  Germany  felt 
able  to  engage  us,  France  would  be  quick  to  recover  Alsace  and 
Lorraine,  and,  indeed,  no  nation  which  could  cope  with  us  would 
be  insane  enough  to  think  of  engaging  in  a  war  with  the  far 
away  republic,  unless  our  nation  occupied  such  a  manifestly  un 
just  or  indefensible  attitude  as  to  bar  us  from  the  moral  support 
of  civilization. 

In  such  cases  as  the  Alabama  Claims  and  the  Behring  Sea 
question,  our  government  showed  the  more  excellent  way,  and 
demonstrated  that  war  is  not  only  unnecessary  but  that  at  this 
stage  of  civilization  it  is  indefensible.  And  these  great  peace 
victories,  which  pointed  to  the  realization  of  a  new  civilization, 
were  in  perfect  alignment  with  the  ideals  held  by  the  founders  of 
our  government. 

After  our  late  war,  however,  our  country  passed  into  a  stage  of 
existence  as  dazzling  to  the  superficial  observer  as  it  was  ominous 
to  the  serious  mind  —  a  period  characterized  by  the  carrying  out 
of  vast  enterprises,  in  which,  too  frequently,  the  government  fur 
nished  a  large  part  of  the  wealth  required,  while  she  permitted 
monopolies  to  reap  the  benefits.  An  era  of  class  legislation  was 
succeeded  by  an  era  of  speculation  or  gambling.  Special  privi 
leges,  class  laws  and  speculation  gave  to  a  few  cunning,  and  often 
totally  unscrupulous  men,  millions  of  unearned  wealth,  and  the 
government  entered  on  a  moral  decline  as  humiliating  to  the 

148 


tbe  Sapage  in  tbe  Kouno*        149 

patriot  as  it  is  melancholy  to  those  who  desire  to  see  manhood 
dignified  and  emancipated  and  justice  enthroned  in  the  affections 
of  the  people. 

The  student  of  history  will  note  with  sadness  that,  as  venality 
began  to  creep  into  the  halls  of  state,  and  as  seats  which  had  been 
honored  by  uncorrupted  patriotism  and  far-seeing  statesmanship 
were  purchased  by  gold  or  won  by  intriguing  tricksters,  and  es 
pecially  as  Wall  Street  and  the  monopolistic  power  came  to  sway 
more  and  more  influence  in  shaping  legislation  and  dictating 
nominations,  we  began  to  imitate  the  despotisms  of  Europe,  not 
only  in  building  arsenals  and  armories  but  by  assiduously  foster 
ing  the  war  spirit  in  our  young  people. 

This  period  has  been  marked  also  by  a  rapid  decline  in  the 
sturdy,  self-reliant  national  spirit  which  in  former  days  made  the 
republic  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the  world.  The  old  cry, 
"  Let  us  show  the  nations  of  the  earth  a  more  excellent  way,"  has 
been  exchanged  for  the  pitiful  whine  of  imbecility,  and  of  late 
whenever  a  promising  innovation  has  been  proposed  the  cry  has 
gone  forth,  "  What  other  nation  has  tried  such  an  experiment  ?  " 
or  "Has  England,  Austria,  Germany  or  France  made  any  similar 
trial  ?  "  From  a  republic  proud  of  being  a  leader  in  the  van  of 
civilization,  we  have  turned  imitator.  Our  nation,  by  yielding  to 
the  corrupt  influence  of  individual,  class  and  corporate  interests, 
has  become  emasculated,  a  condition  which  has  grown  more  and 
more  apparent  with  each  succeeding  year. 

As  the  decline  in  the  republic  of  Rome  was  marked  by  the  rise 
of  the  military  power,  so  there  has  developed  a  passion  for  re 
awakening  the  savage  in  man  and  child  by  fostering  and  incul 
cating  the  war  spirit,  as  true  democracy  has  more  and  more  given 
place  to  plutocracy.  That  there  is  method  in  these  things  there 
can  be  little  doubt,  although  it  is  probable  that  few  people  have 
stopped  to  consider  the  real  significance  of  the  rapid  growth  of 
armories  in  our  midst.  It  is  not  my  purpose,  however,  in  this 
paper  to  deal  with  this  phase  of  the  question.  I  desire  rather  to 
utter  a  protest  against  the  iniquitous  military  drill  now  being 
carried  on  in  many  of  our  churches  and  schools  throughout  the 
United  States. 

In  order  to  impress  this  phase  of  the  question  on  the  minds  of 
our  readers,  I  shall  notice  one  of  many  similar  descriptions  of 
military  organizations,  under  the  auspices  of  the  church,  which 
have  recently  been  given  in  fulsome  terms  by  leading  daily  pa 
pers.  The  one  I  am  about  to  notice  contains  such  headings  as 
the  following ;  "  Properly  Uniformed  and  Armed ;  Both  Infan 
try  and  Artillery  Manoeuvres ;  Drills  and  Public  Exhibitions 
Given."  Then  follows  an  article  which  bestows  unstinted  praise 
on  a  rich  New  York  church  for  fostering  the  war  spirit  in  the 


loo  persons,  places  an&  flfceas. 

minds  of  a  number  of  working  boys  and  seeing  that  they  were 
supplied  with  deadly  muskets  —  muskets  which  had  already  been 
used  for  slaughtering  human  beings. 

It  is  needless  to  point  out  that  in  this  matter  the  millionaire 
churches  exert  an  influence  over  the  young  very  similar  to  that 
exercised  by  the  barons  over  their  retainers  in  the  feudal  ages. 
The  article  to  which  I  refer*  describes  the  formation  of  a  corps 
of  cadets  among  the  working  boys  of  the  west  side  district  of 
New  York  as  a  noble  and  philanthropic  move.  The  cadets  are 
under  the  'protection  and  support  of  the  Collegiate  Reformed 
Church  at  Forty-eighth  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue,  one  of  the 
wealthiest  churches  of  Xew  York  City.  This  corps  of  cadets  was 
started  by  a  member  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Church  of  Xew  York 
City,  who  was  also  a  captain  in  one  of  the  city  regiments.  The 
following  extracts  from  the  article  in  question  illustrate  most  im 
pressively  how  this  iniquitous  work  awakens  the  war  spirit  and 
fosters  the  savage  dream  of  slaughter  in  the  minds  of  the  young. 
The  writer  says :  — 

After  looking  about  very  thoroughly  for  proper  arms  for  the  corps, 
and  listening  to  the  boys'  strong  objections  to  "make  believe"  wooden 
guns,  very  suitable  weapons  were  obtained.  They  are  Burnside  carbines 
bought  from  the  United  States  Arsenal  at  Governor's  Island.  sv  special 
permission  from  the  secretary  of  war.  No  small  degree  of  irm  for 
the  boys  is  added  by  the  fact  that  the  very  guns  they  handV  vere  o  ^e 
used  in  real  fighting.  Thev  weigh  about  six  pounds  and  are,  therefore, 
not  too  heavy  for  even  the  smallest  soldiers  —  for  the  cadets  range  from 
4  feet  2  inches  in  height  to  5  feet  7  inches. 

All  of  the  other  boys  of  the  club  not  enrolled  in  the  corps  are  drilled 
without  uniforms,  so  that  as  soon  as  a  vacancy  occurs  a  well-trained  boy 
can  be  put  in  it. 

He  continues  thus  :  — 

The  company  is  put  through  all  the  military  evolutions,  in  accordance 
with  the  regular  army  tactics;  is  taught  to  march  and  countermarch,  to 
execute  many  different  formations,  and  to  do  the  whole  manual  of  arms 
and  the  bayonet  exercise.  This  last  is  a  particularly  pretty  drill,  not 
much  in  use  now,  but  calculated  to  give  the  soldier  a  free  use  of  his 
weapon  and  an  easy,  strong  wrist.  In  a  recent  entertainment  and  exhi 
bition  given  by  the  corps  at  the  parent  church  on  Fifth  Avenue,  this  part 
of  their  work  elicited  a  great  deal  of  applause. 

In  addition  to  the  infantry  exercises  an  artillery  drill  has  been  estab- . 
lished,  and  a  "dummy"  or  wooden  cannon  having  been  built  in  exact 
reproduction  of  a  genuine  field  piece,  a  squad  of  nine  picked  boys  from 
the  company  have  been  taught  to  handle  it.  They  go  through  the  full 
drill,  loading  and  firing,  going  into  action  in  every  direction,  changing 
the  wheels  and  dismounting  the  piece  by  taking  the  cannon  from  its 
carriage  and  the  wheels  from  the  axle,  so  that  it  is  entirely  dismembered, 
and  setting  it  up  again,  all  with  precision,  and  each  cannonier  doing  his 
part  of  the  work  exactly  as  regular  soldiers  are  taught  to  do  it.  Am 
bulance  and  signal  corps  have  also  been  organized,  and  during  the  mock 
action  the  former  carries  off  the  wounded  while  the  latter  signals  for 
assistance. 

*  New  York  Recorder. 


fostering  tbe  Savage  in  tbe  12oun0.        151 

Here  is  a  further  extract  taken  from  the  account  of  a  drill 
given  in  the  rich  Fifth  Avenue  church  to  raise  funds  to  improve 
the  equipment  of  this  corps  of  boys,  whose  minds  are  being 
turned  by  the  church  from  the  beauty  and  happiness  of  peace 
and  civilization  to  the  dream  of  human  slaughter:-- 

One  little  boy,  the  smallest  of  the  lot,  and  not  over  four  feet  two 
inches  tall,  went  through  all  the  elaborate  movements  of  infantry  drill, 
bayonet  exercise  and  artillery  drill  without  an  error,  and  was  the  avowed 
favorite  of  the  ladies.  Round  after  round  of  applause  was  showered  up 
on  the  corps  on  this  occasion,  and  greatly  appreciated  by  the  little  sol 
diers.  At  this  drill,  a  sham  battle  was  given,  the  artillery  firing  on  an 
imaginary  army  until  the  enemy  was  supposed  to  bring  up  its  cavalry  to 
capture  the  gun.  Then  the  artillerymen  signalled  to  the  infantry  to 
come  to  their  support.  The  cannoniers  dismounted  their  piece,  and  all 
lay  down  until  the  supposed  enemy  was  driven  off  by  the  infantry  fire, 
then  mounted  their  piece  again  to  give  them  a  few  farewell  shots.  Dur 
ing  this  action  the  instructor  called  out  the  numbers  of  the  boys  at  in 
tervals,  and  as  each  was  designated  he  fell  over  as  though  shot,  and  was 
carried  off  by  the  ambulance  corps,  while  the  remaining  boys  manned 
the  cannon.  This  feature  proved  especially  interesting  to  the  spectators. 

Many  pages  might  be  filled  with  accounts  of  similar  work  being 
carried  on  by  the  rich  and  fashionable  churches  of  the  Prince  of 
Peace  in  the  republic,  but  this  illustration  will  suffice,  as  it  is 
typical 

In  a  cent  issue  of  the  Corner  Stone,  edited  by  one  of  the 
most  intelligent,  patriotic  and  conscientious  women  of  Michigan, 
I  find  the  following :  — 

Detroit  has  twenty-seven  church  military  organizations,  containing 
651  men  and  forty-three  officers.  The  largest  is  the  Baptist  cadets,  with 
sixty-six  men  and  three  officers.  Then  comes  the  Maybury  cadets,  an 
Episcopal  organization,  with  sixty  men,  the  First  Congregational  cadets 
with  fifty-three,  the  first  and  last  being  armed  with  rifies.  The  Episco 
palians  have  six  companies,  the  Catholics  eight,  the  Presbyterians  seven, 
Baptists  three,  Congregationalists  two  and  Lutherans  one.  Thirteen  of 
the  companies  are  armed  with  rifies  and  one  with  swords.  These,  it 
must  be  remembered,  are  all  church  military  companies,  and  have  no 
connection  with  the  civil  societies  of  the  state  militia. 

II. 

Probably  nothing  so  well  indicates  the  substitution  of  a  hollow 
and,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  word,  a  materialistic  theology 
for  a  religion  of  life  —  a  loving  faith  expressed  in  deeds  —  as  the 
diligent  and  systematic  fostering  by  church  and  state  of  the  war 
spirit  —  which  is  the  murder  spirit  —  in  the  rising  generation. 
The  position  of  the  church  on  this  question  is  at  once  astounding 
and  incomprehensible,  if  we  admit  that  the  spirit  of  her  Founder 
still  vivifies  her  being ;  for  even  the  most  superficial  thinker 
knows  that  the  drilling  of  youth  in  the  manual  of  arms  must 
necessarily  fill  the  brain  with  ideals  which  are  the  exact  auti- 


152  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

podes  of  the  teaching  of  the  Prince  of  Peace.  The  ultimate 
which  a  course  of  practice  leads  to,  or  the  ideal  which  it  inspires, 
gives  color  to  the  thought  world  of  those  who  come  under  its 
influence,  and  this  is  especially  true  when  the  plastic  brain  of 
childhood  is  dominated  by  an  alluring  ideal. 

Comparatively  few  people  are  aware  of  the  military  activity 
within  the  city  churches  of  America  to-day.  It  is  true  that  the 
daily  papers  of  our  great  cities  have  published  of  late  so  many 
elaborate  and  laudatory  accounts  of  church-fostered  military 
companies,  that  those  who  read  more  than  the  news  items  must 
be  more  or  less  familiar  with  what  is  going  on  in  this  direction ; 
but  the  millions  in  the  country  and  towns  are  ignorant  of  the 
magnitude  of  this  movement,  and  the  weary  workers  who,  in  the 
nature  of  the  case,  cannot  take  time  to  reason  from  cause  to 
effect,  are  content  to  accept  as  gospel  whatever  the  capitalistic 
and  conventional  press  applauds,  without  appreciating  the  real 
significance  of  many  ominous  acts  which  are  taking  place  to-day. 

The  religious  leaders  who  introduced  military  instruction  and 
drill  in  the  churches  and  those  who  later  favored  it,  whatever 
may  have  been  their  motives,  committed  an  error  so  grave,  that 
it  even  now  threatens  to  turn  civilization  back  toward  savagery 
and  destroy  the  opening  blossom  of  universal  peace  through 
arbitration.  I  do  not  wish  to  impugn  the  motives  of  those  who 
advocated  the  formation  of  military  companies  in  the  churches. 
I  believe  that  for  the  most  part  they  only  sought  a  way  of  draw 
ing  the  young  into  the  church  by  means  which  would  naturally 
be  attractive.  The  error  they  committed  lay  in  departing  from 
the  fundamental  teachings  of  their  own  accredited  Leader,  tvhom 
they  believe  to  be  a  God,  and  who,  in  life,  spirit  and  word,  em 
phasized  in  the  most  solemn  and  impressive  manner  the  impor 
tance  of  driving  from  the  brain  every  dream  of  war,  every  ideal 
that  looked  toward  physical  violence,  every  thought  which  com 
prehended  the  taking  of  human  life.  The  profound  insight  of 
Jesus,  which  led  Him  to  transfer  the  seat  of  actual  criminality 
from  the  commission  of  the  crime  to  the  entertainment  of  the 
thought  which  fathered  its  execution,  has  been  generally  over 
looked  by  modern  theologians. 

The  question  will  naturally  arise  as  to  how  it  was  possible 
that  servants  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  could  so  far  forget  the  life 
and  teaching  of  their  Leader  as  to  foster  or  favor  the  formation  of 
military  organizations?  I  think  the  mistake  was  due  mainly  to 
(1)  a  shortsightedness  which  overlooked  the  influence  of  the 
ultimate  ideal  upon  the  plastic  brain  of  childhood,  and  (2)  to  an 
unconscious  yielding  to  the  savage  spirit  of  our  gold-crazed  age, 
which  prevented  their  coming  into  rapport  with  the  deepest  and 
most  philosophic  truths  uttered  by  the  great  Nazarene. 


tfoe  Saxmge  in  tbe  IPouno*        153 


One  evil  effect  of  this  mistake  was  soon  manifest.  The  old 
fires  of  religious  hate,  which  have  so  darkly  stained  the  history 
of  Christianity,  were  at  once  awakened.  There  is  nothing  which 
should  be  more  carefully  guarded  against  than  stimulating  reli 
gious  hatred.  Theological  fanaticism  knows  no  reason.  The 
finest  sentiments  of  mercy,  justice  and  gentleness  are  by  it 
trampled  under  foot.  There  always  has  existed  within  the  fellow 
ship  of  the  various  Protestant  churches,  no  less  than  within  the 
communion  of  Rome,  a  more  or  less  formidable  minority  whose 
views^arejso  jxarrow  that  they  cnrmot  or  will  not  admit  the  prob 
ability,  even  if  they  grant  the  possibility,  of  those  who  differ  from 
them  being  right,  and  who  in  their  hearts  believe  that  all  who  do 
not  see  religious  truth  through  their  spectacles  will  necessarily  be 
damned.  They  ignore  the  admonitions  of  Jesus,  in  which  He 
observed  that  he  who  was  not  against  Him  was  for  Him,  and  leave 
out  of  consideration  the  fact  that  had  they  been  born  into  Moham 
medan  lands  they  would  have  been  in  all  probability  as  intolerant 
in  their  demand  that  all  others  should  believe  in  the  tenets  of  the 
Mohammedan  religion  as  they  are  that  all  shall  see  as  they  now  see. 
They  furthermore  forget,  or  are  incapable  of  realizing,  that  hearts 
and  brains  are  not  all  cast  in  the  same  mould,  and  though  the 
fundamentals  of  love,  justice,  truth  and  right  as  they  pertain  to 
life  are  ever  the  same,  belief  in  certain  tenets  is  largely,  if  not 
almost  entirely,  a  question  of  heredity  and  environment. 

These  narrow-minded  persons  are  often  conscientious  and  sin 
cere,  but  they  are  also  always  possible  persecutors,  and  their 
influence  is  necessarily  unchristian,  because  it  invariably  stirs  up 
hate  and  savagery  in  the  hearts  of  others.  The  formation  of 
military  companies  in  churches  at  once  afforded  an  excuse  for 
these  classes  to  come  to  the  front  and  influence  the  minds  of 
those  more  swayed  by  prejudice  than  by  justice  and  right.  Ow 
ing  to  the  long  and  savage  conflict  between  Protestantism  and 
Catholicism  it  is  no  difficult  task  to  alarm  a  goodly  number  of 
partizan  religionists  of  the  great  opposing  bodies,  and  a  deter 
mined  attempt  is  being  fostered  by  the  fanatics  to  arraign  these 
two  forces  against  each  other.  I  have  for  months  been  saddened 
by  seeing  organs  of  hate  seeking  to  arouse  the  fiercest  passions 
in  the  minds  of  their  readers,  in  the  name  of  religion  and  pre 
sumably  for  the  glory  of  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

I  most  profoundly  believe  that  if  Jesus  came  to  the  republic 
to-day  His  first  command  would  be  "  Ground  arms  "  ;  for  the 
present  arming  and  drilling  of  His  pretended  followers  is  a 
flagrant  insult  to  His  life  and  teachings.  He  was  emphatically  a 
Man  of  Peace  and  even  opposed  retaliation.  Love  was  His 
talisman.  He  taught  that  hate  and  the  murderous  spirit  of  war 
were  from  the  pit.  They  represented  the  savagery  of  the  brute. 


154  persons,  places  ant)  Ufceas. 

His  disciples  must  be  children  of  peace  if  they  would  please  the 
Infinite  Father  whose  name  was  Love  and  who  dwelt  in  Lio-ht. 
"  Blessed  are  the  peace  makers,  for  they  shall  be  called  the  chil 
dren  of  God."  The  sign  manual  of  Divine  sonship  was  peace 
making,  exactly  as  fostering  the  spirit  of  slaughter  is  the  un 
mistakable  sign  of  the  atheism  of  greed,  the  materialism  of 
animality.  "Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said,  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  and  hate  thine  enemy ;  but  I  say  unto  you, 
Love  your  enemies."  "  Put  up  thy  sword ;  whoso  taketh  the 
sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword." 

The  example  of  Jesus'  life,  no  less  than  His  solemn  precepts, 
was  an  unfailing  protest  against  war,  hate,  savagery  and  whatever 
could  arouse  or  strengthen  the  animal  side  of  man's  nature. 
Instead  of  military  drill,  Jesus  would  burn  into  the  souls  of  the 
youth  this  thought  expressed  by  Isaiah,  "  How  beautiful  upon 
the  mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  that  bringeth  good  tidings, 
that  publisheth  peace."  The  highest  ideal  and  dreams  of  prophet, 
sage  and  philosopher  in  all  ages  are  summed  up  in  the  lofty 
words  of  the  olden  seer:  "Men  shall  beat  their  swords  into 
ploughshares  and  their  spears  into  pruning  hooks.  Nation  shall 
not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they  learn  war  any 
more. 

III. 

The  work  of  fostering  the  savage  spirit  in  the  minds  of  the 
very  young  has  not  been  confined  to  the  church ;  indeed  we 
might  say  that  the  church,  instead  of  holding  steadfastly  to  the 
high  ideal  of  Jesus,  allowed  herself  to  hearken  to  the  words  of 
short-sighted  thinkers  and  drift  with  the  current  of  a  settled 
policy,  which  has  of  late  become  more  and  more  apparent 
with  each  successive  administration.  The  introduction  of 
military  training  into  the  common  schools  of  America  marked 
the  triumph  of  the  military  spirit  of  despotic  Europe  over 
the  long-cherished  traditions  of  the  republic.  Kot  satisfied 
with  teaching  the  manual  of  arms  in  colleges,  which  should  be 
dedicated  to  peace  and  true  civilization,  the  high  schools  have 
come  under  the  curse  of  this  blunting,  soul-shrivelling  influence 
of  war,  and  so  cunningly  has  this  spirit  of  savagery  been  fostered 
that  the  lower  schools  are  now  threatened  with  its  infection. 
We  are  told  that  the  administration  looks  with  favor  on  enlarging 
the  scope  of  military  instruction ;  and  ex-President  Harrison, 
not  to  be  outdone,  allows  the  admonitions  of  his  acknowledged 
Lord  and  Master  to  be  forgotten  in  his  desire  to  win  the  favor  of 
capitalism  and  the  Grand  Army,  by  exclaiming,  "  It  is  good  for 
the  boys,  good  for  the  schools  and  good  for  the  country." 

On  the  18th  of  May  there  passed  under  my  office  windows  a 


^Fostering  tbe  Savage  in  tbe  ISoung.'       155 


sight  which  saddened  me  for  many  days.  It  was  the  spectacle 
of  more  than  twelve  hundred  lads,  of  from  twelve  to  nineteen 
years  of  age,  parading  in  full  uniform,  all  bearing  guns.  They 
were  headed  by  a  band  which  discoursed  popular  military  airs. 
The  little  street  gamins  looked  enviously  upon  the  boys  clad  in 
blue,  with  brass  buttons,  bearing  standards  and  marching  to  mili 
tary  music.  I  do  not  see  how  any  thoughtful  person  could  have 
looked  upon  the  spectacle  without  feeling  that  the  hands  on  the 
dial  of  civilization  were  being  put  back.  In  describing  the  event 
the  Boston  Daily  Globe  said  :  — 

The  "Pride  of  Boston,"  its  school  regiment,  composed  of  pupils  of 
the  high  and  Latin  schools  of  the  city,  and  numbering  1,330  lads  ranging 
in  age  from  thirteen  to  nineteen  years,  organized  as  thirty-two  companies 
and  forming  four  battalions,  had  its  annual  parade  yesterday.  For  the 
past  two  weeks,  or  since  the  death  of  Brig.-Gen.  Hobart  Moore,  under  a 
new  instructor  the  officers  and  men  of  the  regiment  have  worked  with 
an  energy  commendable  in  the  highest  degree. 

In  their  neat  blue  uniforms,  with  bright  eyes  and  smiling  faces,  the 
boys  assembled  at  the  school  building,  Montgomery  Street  and  Warren 
Avenue,  with  soldierly  promptness  at  9  o'clock,  ready  for  the  duties  of 
the  day  with  the  regiment.  At  10.15  the  column  started  upon  its  march 
to  the  common. 

Great  applause  greeted  the  regiment  as  it  turned  into  School  Street 
and  marched  past  city  hall  in  column  of  platoons,  giving  a  marching 
salute  to  Mayor  Matthews,  who  stood  at  the  gateway,  attended  by  Pri 
vate  Secretary  Nat  Taylor,  City  Messenger  Peters,  several  aldermen  and 
heads  of  departments.  A  brief  halt  was  made  on  Beacon  Street  before 
reaching  the  state  house,  which  passing  in  column  of  companies,  march 
ing  honors  were  given  Governor  Greenhalge,  who,  standing  upon  the 
steps  of  the  capitol,  received  the  compliment. 

The  commander-iu-chief  was  attended  by  Adjt.-Gen.  Dalton  and  Col 
onels  Benton,  Kenney,  Billings,  Moses,  Hastings  and  Page  of  his  military 
family. 

To  the  lover  of  peace,  to  the  truly  civilized  man  and  woman, 
to  the  high-minded  patriot,  such  spectacles  are  saddening  beyond 
expression.  They  reveal  the  fact  that,  after  our  country  had 
reached  the  point  where  she  had  by  arbitration  shown  the  other 
great  powers  of  the  world  a  nobler  way  of  settling  disputes 
than  by  awakening  the  instincts  of  the  savage  in  man,  and 
just  at  the  proud  moment  when  it  seemed  that  the  nower  of  en 
during  peace  was  about  to  blossom  upon  the  breast  of  the  great 
republic,  we  find  the  cry  going  forth,  to  transform  her  from  the 
world's  harbinger  of  peace  into  a  military  camp  ;  and  that  this 
may  be  effectively  done,  we  find  that  our  boys  in  the  common 
schools  are  being  trained  in  the  savage  art  of  war. 

Every  careful  student  of  human  life  knows  that  the  ideals  and 
thoughts  which  fill  the  horizon  of  childhood  color  all  after  life. 
If  during  the  formative  period  the  ideals  which  fill  the  child's 
mind  be  essentially  noble  and  humane,  if  he  be  taught  that  his 


156  persons,  places  aufc  flfceas* 

mission  is  to  help  subdue  the  savage  in  man,  to  transform  swords 
into  ploughshares  and  spears  into  pruning  hooks,  or  in  other  words, 
to  become  a  saviour  of  life  and  a  dispenser  of  happiness  instead 
of  a  slayer  of  his  brother  and  an  angel  of  darkness,  he  will  grow 
to  manhood  brave  but  gentle,  manly  but  loving.  He  will  love 
justice  more  than  gold ;  he  will  see  that  the  man  who  develops 
the  highest  side  of  his  life  is  the  child  of  wisdom,  and  that 
wherever  he  may  go  the  flowers  of  joy  will  spring  up,  blossom 
and  fling  abroad  their  exhilarating  perfume. 

On  the  other  hand  the  child  who  is  drilled  in  the  manual  of 
arms  has  constantly  before  him  the  hour  when  he  may  draw  the 
trigger  which  means  death  to  a  fellow-man  ;  he  comes  to  love 
the  sound  of  the  drum  beat,  and  learns  to  long  for  a  chance  to 
shoulder  the  murderous  gun.  He  turns  to  the  lives  of  Alexander, 
Csesar  and  Napoleon ;  dreams  of  fame  through  slaughter,  of 
power  through  devastation  and  destruction,  fill  his  mind,  and  by 
coming  to  believe  it  is  legitimate  to  kill  his  fellow-men  when 
ordered  to  by  a  superior  officer,  the  highest  and  finest  elements 
in  his  mind  are  benumbed.  And  I  may  say  here,  what  I  most 
profoundly  believe,  that  there  can  never  be  an  approach  to  civil 
ization  so  long  as  the  child  mind  receives  military  drill,  for  the 
associations,  ideals  and  dreams  which  necessarily  follow  in  the 
wake  of  warlike  instruction  are  so  at  variance  with  the  ideals 
which  alone  can  redeem  the  world  from  hate,  greed  and  injustice, 
that  until  children  are  taught  to  entertain  a  profound  reverence 
for  human  life,  human  rights  and  for  justice  in  its  broadest  sense, 
humanity  will  not  know  what  true  civilization  is. 

IV. 

We  are  informed  by  the  advocates  of  military  drill  that  there 
is  much  to  be  said  in  its  favor,  aside  from  its  possible  benefit  to 
the  state  in  the  event  of  war.  We  are  informed  that  it  gives  the 
boy  much  needed  physical  culture.  In  reply  I  would  say  that, 
even  if  this  claim  were  well  founded,  the  possible  benefit  would 
be  many  times  counterbalanced  by  the  blunting  of  the  moral 
sensibilities  which  attends  training  in  the  art  of  human  slaughter, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  evil  effect  in  filling  his  mind  with  dreams 
of  fame  based  on  the  exercise  of  the  savage  in  his  nature. 

But  let  us  further  notice  the  claims  put  forth  for  military  drill 
on  the  ground  of  its  value  in  developing  the  physical  body.  On 
this  point  there  is  a  diversity  of  opinions ;  indeed,  it  is  doubtful, 
if  the  spirit  of  Caesar  were  not  so  strong  at  the  present  time, 
Avhether  thoughtful  people  would  advance  this  as  an  argument, 
but  let  us  notice  its  force.  There  is  probably  no  man  in  the 
United  States  whose  judgment  in  regard  to  physical  culture  will 


tbe  Savage  in  tbe  ffioung.        157 

be  universally  accepted  as  more  authoritative  than  that  of  Dr.  I). 
A.  Sargent  of  Harvard  University,  and  on  this  point  Dr.  Sargent 
observes  :  — 

After  the  most  favorable  view  possible  of  military  drill  as  a  physical 
exercise,  we  are  led  to  conclude  that  its  constrained  positions  and 
closely  localized  movements  do  not  afford  the  essential  requisites  for 
developing  the  muscles  and  improving  the  respiration  and  circulation, 
and  thereby  improving  the  general  health  and  condition  of  the  system. 
We  must  further  conclude  that  in  case  of  any  malformation,  local  weak 
ness  or  constitutional  debility,  the  drill  tends,  by  its  strain  upon  the 
nerves  and  prolonged  tension  on  the  muscles,  to  increase  the  defects 
rather  than  to  relieve  them.  Finally,  if  the  ultimate  object  of  the  drill 
was  to  prepare  young  men  for  the  life  and  duties  of  a  soldier,  we  should 
be  forced  to  conclude  that  the  drill  itself  would  still  be  defective  as  a 
means  of  developing  the  chief  requisites  for  men  in  that  profession. 

It  will  be  observed  that  this  craze  for  military  drill,  which  is 
one  of  the  legitimate  fruits  of  the  war  spirit  which  is  being 
fostered  and  which  tinds  expression  in  the  rapid  multiplication  of 
armories  in  our  great  centres  of  population,  does  not,  according  to 
Dr.  Sargent,  accomplish  the  physical  culture  which  wholesome 
gymnastic  exercise  gives.  Moreover  he  urges  that  soldiers  to  be 
efficient  should  receive  the  gymnastic  training  as  well,  and  the 
correctness  of  this  observation  is  emphasized  when  it  is  remem 
bered  that  the  great  military  powers  of  Europe  give  the  recruits 
several  months'  gymnastic  training  before  they  are  expected  to 
fill  the  requirements  of  soldiers. 

Mr.  Leverett  "W.  Case,  master  of  the  Dudley  School  of  Rox- 
bury,  Boston,  when  interviewed  a  few  months  ago  in  regard  to 
the  advisability  of  introducing  the  military  drill  into  the  grammar 
schools,  made  the  following  observation  :  — 

It  is  a  bad  thing  for  the  boys.  These  public  street  parades  are  espe 
cially  evil  things.  I  have  known  three  or  four  boys  to  faint  away  from 
the  fatigue  and  excitement  on  such  occasions.  Then  again,  it  teaches 
the  boys  to  look  forward  to  war,  and  to  cherish  a  desire  for  fighting 
which  is  not  desirable.  It  seems  to  me  that  after  twenty  centuries  of 
religious  enlightenment  we  ought  to  be  able  to  live  without  fighting, 
and  the  maintenance  of  standing  armies.  I  believe  in  fostering  a  love  of 
nature  and  peaceful  intercourse  between  one  another  among  school 
children.  Boys  should  be  taught  what  will  be  useful  to  them,  but  they 
should  not  be  taught  that  which  would  engender  a  desire  for  warfare. 
The  Ling  system  of  gymnastics  which  we  now  have  in  the  grammar 
schools  answers  every  purpose.  It  .gives  the  school  plenty  of  wholesome 
exercise  and  that  is  all  they  need.* 

We  are  told  that  military  drills  give  grace  and  suppleness  to 
the  boys.  In  noticing  this  point  Dr.  Sargent  observes:  — 

In  reference  to  the  gracefulnesss  that  is  thought  to  characterize  the 
movements  of  young  cadets,  I  can  only  say  it  is  not  the  outcome  of 
drilling  and  marching.  The  soldier  is  trained  to  square  corners,  straight 

*  Interview  published  in  Boston  Daily  Journal,  Jan.  24, 1894. 


153  persons,  places  au£>  flfceas. 

platoons,  and  angular  movements.  Curves  and  embellishments  are  not 
encouraged,  in  speech  or  in  action.  If  you  would  account  for  the  grace 
ful  pose  of  our  National  Cadets  you  must  see  them  from  one  to  two 
hours  a  day  in  charge  of  the  dancing  master. 

It  is  further  urged  that  if  our  1>oys  are  drilled  in  school  they 
will  be  prepared  for  war.  On  this  point,  I  desire  to  ojiote  the 
words  of  Lieut.  Col.  Thomas  F.  Kd  mauds  of  the  Boston 
Cadets:  — 

"  I  only  know  that  school  drill  injures  the  militia  service;;  and  I  never 
saw  a  school  successfully  drilled  —  that  is,  where  the  play  was  worth 
I  he  candle.  It  is  Impracticable  to  teach  the  boys  anything  more  than 
the  manual  of  arms.  It  is  one  of  the  clearest  cases  ever  invented  of  a 
little  knowledge  being  a  dangerous  thing.  Boys  like  it  because  they  are 
aping  the  men  and  wear  Hash  clothes.  When  they  get  through  school 
their  heads  are  so  swelled  by  it  that  they  think  they  know  it  all,  and  are 
unwilling  to  receive  any  military  instruction  of  real  value  to  themselves 
or  to  the  country." 

u  How  about  the  physical  benefits  to  be  derived  from  the  drill?" 

"In  Boston  the  effect  of  school  drill  lias  been  to  make  boys  round 
shouldered  and  narrow  chested.  1  never  saw  a  school  company  well  set 
up  in  my  life.  Except  a  few  of  the  larger  ones  the  boys  are  overweighted 
by  the  musket  they  are  Obliged  to  carry." 

"Then  you  do  not  believe  the  drill  adds  much  to  the  value  of  the  boy 
as  a  subsequent  military  man?  " 

"The  modern  drill  regulations  are  by  no  means  adapted  for  work  in 
schools  under  any  circumstances.  They  need  a  man's  bra  ins  and  muscles. 
Kvery  time  I  tell  the  truth  about,  the  matter  I  generally  raise  a  storm 
from  persons  illy  informed  upon  the  subject,  and  from  the  boys,  whose 
self  conceit,  engendered  by  this  drill,  should  be  one  of  the  greatest 
arguments  against,  its  further  practice."' 

Even  if  Colonel  Kdmands  were  incorrect,  the  claim  that  our 
youth  should  be  instructed  in  the  tactics  of  war,  in  ease  there 
may  be  war,  is  so  peurile  and  out  of  keeping  with  what  ought  to 
be  the  spirit  of  our  century,  that  those  who  know  so  well  what, 
will  result  from  filling  the  brain  of  the  young  with  visions  of 
military  glory,  should  demand  an  immediate  cessation  of  this 
ungodly  and  savage  drill  which  belongs  to  the  plane  of  the 
barbarian,  and  which  is  a  crime  against  civilization,  the  republic, 
and  the  young.  The  mothers,  wives  and  sisters  in  this  great, 
republic,  and  all  who  love  peace,  justice;  and  enlightenment,  have 
a  Ljre.'it  responsibility  resting  upon  them.  If  the  savage  is  to  be 
beat  en  back  to  his  lair  and  the  man  again  enthroned,  there  is  not 
an  hour  to  be  lost. 


Hypnotism  ant)  1H0  IRelation  to  fl^cbical 
IReeearcb, 

i. 

DURING-  the  past  thirty  years  the  gradual  accumulation  of 
incontrovertible    evidence   revealing  hitherto   undreamed-of 
possibilities  of  the  human  mind,  has  been  such  as  to  warrant 
us  in  believing  that  we  are  on  the  threshold  of  a  field  of  re 
search  which  will  mark  a  distinct  epoch  in  human  history,  if 
indeed  it  be  not  prophetic  of  the  next  great  step  in  man's 
evolutionary  development.     And  in  referring  to  the  psychical 
phenomena  already  demonstrated,  I  include  only  such  abso 
lute  facts  as  have  been  established  by  critical  and  competent 
scientific  research. 

With  the  vast  mass  of  alleged  phenomena  which  con 
fronts  the  earnest  inquirer  on  every  hand  it  is  not  my  present 
purpose  to  deal.  I  shall  confine  myself  for  the  most  part  to  the 
examination  of  phenomena  which  have  been  as  authoritatively 
demonstrated  by  critical  comparative  methods  as  other  univer 
sally  accepted  truths  in  physical  science,  as  my  chief  purpose 
in  this  paper  is  to  indicate  the  all-important  fact  that  the  old 
boundaries  of  mental  limitation  have  been  broken  dmvn; 
that  what  has  hitherto  been  regarded  as  the  impossible  is  now 
a  demonstrated  actuality,  and,  therefore,  that  it  is  unscientific 
and  unworthy  our  age  to  close  our  eyes  longer  to  this  field 
of  research  which  already  promises  to  disclose  truths  of 
inestimable  value.  I  am  well  aware  that  many  who  do 
not  consider  themselves  conservative  thinkers  will  regard 
this  view  of  the  possibilities  of  psychical  research  as  unwarran 
tably  optimistic.  They  will  remind  us  of  the  fact  that  in  all 
ages  alleged  phenomena  have  entered  the  woof  and  web  of  pop 
ular  superstition  and  legendary  lore,  while  nothing  of  scientific 
value  has  been  demonstrated.  They,  however,  do  not  take 
into  account  the  important  fact  that  though  man's  menial 
limitation  in  the  past  has  led  him  to  denominate  as  miracu- 

159 


160  persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas. 

lous  or  supernatural  all  phenomena  beyond  then  known  laws, 
it  is  no  evidence  that  these  phenomena  have  not  occurred 
through  the  orderly  operation  of  some  great  law,  which, 
although  existing  from  the  beginning  of  creation,  has  awaited 
recognition,  as  the  law  of  gravitation  so  long  awaited  the 
cognizance  of  man. 

Objections  to  psychical  research  are  so  frequently  urged 
that  it  seems  necessary,  on  the  very  threshold  of  our  examina 
tion  of  this  subject,  briefly  to  give  a  few  reasons  which,  in 
my  judgment,  justify  belief  in  the  early  demonstration  of 
psychical  facts  as  revolutionary,  important  and  even  more 
beneficent  than  this  century's  crowning  achievement  in  the 
province  of  physical  science  —  the  establishment  of  the 
theory  of  evolution. 

In  the  first  place,  let  us  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  the 
ascendency  of  a  strictly  critical  or  scientific  method  of  inves 
tigation  is  of  comparatively  recent  date,  but  it  has  now  so 
completely  mastered  dominant  thought  that  the  people  in 
general,  as  well  as  scientific  bodies,  are  coming  to  apply  it 
to  all  phenomena  with  which  the}7  come  in  contact.  Mere 
hearsay  no  longer  satisfies  the  spirit  of  the  age;  while  until 
the  establishment  of  this  method  it  is  evident  that  facts  which 
may  have  actually  occurred  were,  from  a  scientific  point  of 
view,  practically  worthless.  Hence,  whatever  is  demonstrated 
under  what  is  known  as  the  comparative  method  of  scientific 
research  possesses  a  positive  value  never  before  present.  In 
the  second  place,  the  marvellous  strides  witnessed  in  the 
province  of  physical  science,  and  the  unparalleled  triumph 
within  a  few  decades  of  the  evolutionary  theory  over  uni 
versally  accepted,  age-long  thought,  indicate  a  readiness  on 
the  part  of  humanity  to  accept  a  new  truth.  This  marks  a 
distinct  advance  in  civilization,  and  reveals  how  strong  a 
hold  reason  has  taken  in  a  soil  heretofore  more  or  less  over 
grown  with  the  weeds  of  superstition,  prejudice  and  intoler 
ant  bigotry.  Indeed,  I  know  of  no  victory  in  the  history 
of  man's  intellectual  development  more  significant  than  that 
which  attended  the  general  acceptation  of  the  theoiy 
promulgated  by  Darwin,  Spencer  and  Wallace.  True,  the 
conflict  was  marked  for  a  time  by  great  bitterness  and  un 
reasonable  hostility  on  the  part  of  dominant  theology  and 
conservative  thought,  yet  the  new  idea  succeeded  in  a  few 
years  in  revolutionizing  the  intellectual  conception  of  civili- 


Hypnotism*  i6i 

zation,  turning  the  thought  of  the  world  from  channels  through 
which  it  had  flowed  almost  uninterruptedly  for  ages,  into  not 
only  a  radically  different  bed,  but  one  which  carried  its  cur 
rent  in  a  diametrically  opposite  direction.  This  triumph  of 
physical  science  over  inherited  ideas  and  the  superstitions 
and  traditions  of  ages,  has  proved  of  inconceivable  value  to 
scientific  investigation  in  the  psychical  realm,  as  it  has 
broadened  the  vision  of  the  intellectual  world  and  destroyed 
the  breastworks  of  religious  prejudice,  which  would  other 
wise  have  rendered  critical  study  of  supernormal  phenomena 
doubly  difficult. 

A  third  point  which  warrants  our  belief  in  the  approach  of 
an  era  of  great  advancement  in  this  realm,  is  the  very  notice 
able  fact  that  many  eminent  scientific  thinkers  who  have 
hitherto  ignored  or  discouraged  psychical  research,  are  now 
coming  forward  and  demanding  not  only  a  fair  hearing  for 
this  exiled  truth,  but  are  insisting  that  their  own  great 
bodies  investigate  what  a  few  years  ago  would  have  been 
scornfully  dismissed  as  belonging  only  to  the  province  of 
superstition,  charlatanry  and  jugglery.  Perhaps  the  most 
notable  instance  of  the  gradual  giving  way  of  prejudice  on 
the  part  of  eminent  scientists,  is  found  in  the  annual  address 
of  Prof.  Oliver  J.  Lodge,  President  of  the  Section  of  Mathe 
matics  and  Physics  of  the  British  Association  for  Advance 
ment  of  Science,  delivered  last  August,  in  which  this  eminent 
and  conservative  thinker  took  strong  ground  in  favor  of  his 
society  systematically  investigating  psychical  phenomena. 
In  the  course  of  his  remarks  he  made  the  following  significant 
observations :  - 

What  we  know  is  as  nothing  to  that  which  remains  to  be 
known.  This  is  sometimes  said  as  a  truism  ;  sometimes  it  is  half- 
doubted.  To  me  it  seems  the  most  literal  truth,  and  that  if  we 
narrow  our  view  to  already  half-conquered  territory  only,  we 
shall  be  false  to  the  men  who  won  our  freedom,  and  treasonable 
to  the  highest  claims  of  science. 

I  care  not  what  the  end  may  be.  I  do  care  that  the  inquiry 
shall  be  conducted  by  us,  and  that  we  shall  be  free  from  the  dis 
grace  of  jogging  along  accustomed  roads,  leaving  to  outsiders  the 
work,  the  ridicule,  and  the  gratification  of  unfolding  a  new 
region  to  unwilling  eyes. 

It  is  sometimes  objected  that,  granting  thought-transference  or 
telepathy  to  be  a  fact,  it  belongs  more  especially  to  lower  forms 
of  life,  and  that  as  the  cerebral  hemispheres  develop  we  become 


162  persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas, 

Independent  of  it  ;  that  what  we  notice  is  the  relic  of  a  decaying 
iaculty,  not  the  germ  of  a  new  and  fruitful  sense  ;  and  that  prog 
ress  is  not  to  be  made  by  studying  or  attending  to  it.  It  may 
be  that  it  is  an  immature  mode  of  communication,  adapted  to 
lower  stages  of  consciousness  than  ours,  but  how  much  can  we 
not  learn  by  studying  immature  stages?  As  well  might  the 
objection  be  urged  against  a  study  of  embryology.  It  may,  on 
the  other  hand,  be  an  indication  of  a  higher  mode  of  communica 
tion,  which  shall  survive  our  temporary  connection  with  ordi 
nary  matter. 

I  have  faith  in  the  intelligibility  of  the  universe.  Intelligi 
bility  has  been  the  great  creed  in  the  strength  of  which  all  intel 
lectual  advance  has  been  attempted,  and  all  scientific  progress 
made.  At  first  things  always  look  mysterious.  A  comet,  light 
ning,  the  aurora,  the  rainbow  —  all  seem  strange,  anomalous, 
mysterious  apparitions.  But  scrutinized  in  the  dry  light  of  science, 
their  relationship  with  other  better-known  things  becomes  ap 
parent. 

Now  I  say  that  the  doctrine  of  ultimate  intelligibility  should  be 
pressed  into  other  departments  also.  At  present  we  hang  back 
from  whole  regions  of  inquiry,  and  say  they  are  not  for  us.  A 
few  we  are  beginning  to  grapple  with.  The  nature  of  disease  is 
yielding  to  scrutiny  with  fruitful  result ;  the  mental  aberrations 
and  abnormalities  of  hypnotism,  duplex  personality  and  allied 
phenomena,  are  now  at  last  being  taken  under  the  wing  of 
science  after  long  ridicule  and  contempt.  The  phenomenon  of 
crime,  the  scientific  meaning  and  justification  of  altruism,  and 
other  matters  relating  to  life  and  conduct,  are  beginning,  or  per 
haps  are  barely  yet  beginning,  to  show  a  vulnerable  front  over 
which  the  forces  of  science  may  pour. 

Such  utterances  from  such  a  source  are  very  significant, 
revealing  the  fact  that  psychical  phenomena  have  taken  such 
a  hold  on  the  public  mind  that  they  can  no  longer  be  ignored 
by  leading  scientific  bodies,  and  also  indicate  that  the  hos 
tility  heretofore  exhibited  by  orthodox  thinkers  in  the  domain 
of  physical  science  is  gradually  but  surely  giving  away.* 


*The  change  of  sentiment  now  daily  becoming  more  and  more  manifest  among 
thinking  people  and  especially  the  more  conservative  element  of  scholars  and  scien 
tific  investigators,  is  largely  due  to  the  splendid  work  accomplished  during  the  past 
few  years  by  the  English  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  which  has  accumulated, 
verified  and  classified  so  much  supernormal  phenomena  which  hitherto  floated  around 
as  gossip,exertingnogreat  influence  on  critical  thinkers,  owing  to  the  apparent  absence 
of  evidential  value.  The  researches  of  such  eminent  savants  as  Dr.  Alfred  Russel 
Wallace  and  Professor  Crookes  in  England,  Camille  Flammarion  in  France,  and 
Professor  J.  R.  Buchanan  and  Professor  William  Denton  in  America,  have  alsoexerted 
an  influence  which  is  yearly  becoming  more  and  more  manifest  on  conservative 
thought.  The  discoveries  of*  Braid  and  the  more  recent  demonstrations  of  leading 
physicians  in  hypnotism  have  also  contributed  materially  to  the  slowly  changing 
attitude  of  popular  scientists. 


Hypnotism,  1C3 

A  fourth  fact  worthy  of  mention  is  the  surprising  and  definite 
results  which  have  crowned  the  limited  scientific  research  ii? 
psychical  fields  during  recent  years.  They  have  already 
broken  down  beyond  all  controversy  the  old  ideas  of  mental 
limitation.  They  have  demonstrated  that  the  conception  so 
long  held  as  final,  is  as  erroneous  as  was  the  one-time  uni 
versal  belief  in  a  flat  world,  or  the  theory  of  a  practically 
instantaneous  creation. 

These  observations  seemed  necessary  on  the  very  threshold 
of  this  subject,  owing  to  the  prejudice  and  hostility  of  domi 
nant  thought  which,  however,  as  noted  above,  is  each  year 
giving  way,  although  still  exerting  sufficient  influence  to 
prevent  a  candid  and  unbiased  investigation  of  facts  on  the 
part  of  thousands  of  scholarly  minds.*  In  the  present  paper 
I  shall  touch  chiefly  on  the  revelations  which  have  attended 
scientific  experimentation  in  hypnotism,  not  because  they 
are  more  remarkable  than  many  other  psychical  phenomena 
which  are  now  challenging  the  thoughtful  consideration  of 
many  leading  scientists,  but  because  owing  to  the  nature  and 
extent  of  the  investigations  carried  on  by  a  number  of  the 
foremost  scientific  and  medical  men  of  the  age,  the  array  of 
indisputable  yet  astonishing  facts  is  so  complete  and  of 
such  a  character  as  best  to  carry  conviction  to  prejudiced 
minds. 

*  I  am  by  110  means  unmindful  of  the  causes  which  have  largely  contributed  to  this 
general  distrust,  and.  which  may  be  briefly  mentioned  as  follows : 

[1]  The  oft-demonstrated  element  of  unquestioned  credulity  which  characterizes 
ignorant  people  and  causes  them  to  swallow  with  avidity  all  phenomena  which  they 
fail  to  understand.  [2]  The  general  ignorance  of  the  laws  concerning  these  manifesta 
tions,  which  enables  charlatans  and  impostors  to  establish  conditions  claimed  to  be 
essential,  which  render  fraud  possible  and  invite  trickery.  [3]  The  unscientific 
report  of  the  learned  Bailey  Commission,  appointed  by  the 'French  Government  in 
1784  to  investigate  mesmerism,  or  what  was  then  popularly  termed  animal  magnetism, 
in  which  it  was  declared  that  all  the  power  alleged  to  have  been  exhibited  by  Mesmer 
was  a  "  fraud  "  and  that,  to  use  the  words  of  Bailey,  "  Magnetism  is  one  fact  more  in 
the  history  of  human  error,  and  a  great  proof  of  the  power  of  imagination.1"  This 
reprehensible  exhibition  of  dogmatic  incredulity,  unquestionably,  greatly  retarded 
scientific  progress  along  this  line  of  research.  [4]  The  great  pioneers  in  physical 
science,  who  encountered  such  a  torrent  of  scornful  abuse  from  conservative  thought 
when  they  brought  forth  the  theory  of  evolution,  with  a  few  conspicuous  exceptions, 
have  displayed  unwarrantable  indifference  and  in  some  instances  much  the  same 
spirit  of  hostility  toward  psychical  investigation  as  that  about  which  they  so  justly 
complained  when  their  own  theories  were  first  presented.  This  attitude,  so  thor 
oughly  discreditable  and  essentially  unscientific,  has  prevented  thousands  of  investiga 
tors,  who  take  ideas  second-hand,  from  pursuing  research  along  psychical  lines. 
Conservatism  as  usual  frowned  upon  all  pioneer  thinkers,  and  theology,  more  apprehen 
sive  of  the  overthrow  of  some  cherished  idol  than  the  triumph  of  truth,  has  until  very 
recently  assumed  a  hostile  attitude.  With  this  trinity  of  opposing  forces  added  to 
the  other  causes  enumerated  above,  it  is  not  strange  that  progress  has  been  somewhat 
slow.  Now,  however,  the  wall  of  prejudice  has  to  some  extent  given  way  and  with 
the  constant  establishment  of  new  facts  along  the  line  of  psychical  research,  the 
people  are  manifestino;  a  constantly  increasing  spirit  of  hospitality  most  gratifying  to 
those  careful  investigators  who  have  for  years  employed  a  strictly  scientific  method, 
but  who  have  been  socially  ostracized  because  they  loved  the  truth  more  than  the 
approbation  of  conventional  thought. 


164  persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas. 

II. 

In  1841,  the  eminent  English  surgeon,  James  Braid, 
determined  to  expose  mesmerism,  which  he  in  common  with 
his  scientific  brethren  believed  to  be  an  unmitigated  fraud. 
Doctor  Braid  soon  came  to  realize  that  instead  of  mesmerism 
being  an  unadulterated  fraud,  it  possessed  the  grain  of  truth 
capable  of  revolutionizing  established  ideas.  Accordingly 
he  entered  upon  the  laborious  task  of  demonstrating  and 
critically  noting  facts  connected  with  these  marvelous  phe 
nomena.  In  1842,  he  published  his  notable  work  entitled 
"Neurypnology."  Immediately  he  suffered  from  a  storm  of 
hostile  criticism.  Nevertheless  his  clear  utterances  and  the 
methods  employed  gained  for  him  the  thoughtful  considera 
tion  of  several  eminent  continental  thinkers,  who  were  less 
fettered  by  conservatism  than  his  English  professional  breth 
ren.  A  score  of  years  later  hypnotism  was  attracting  much 
attention  among  leading  physicians  and  other  scientific  inves 
tigators  in  France  and  other  continental  nations.  Since  that 
day  it  has  rapidly  gained  in  the  number  of  eminent  scientists 
who  have  wrought  what  in  an  earlier  age  would  have  been 
regarded  as  miracles.  Among  the  critical  thinkers  who  have 
given  special  attention  to  the  power  of  mind  along  this 
special  line  of  inquiry  since  the  publication  of  Doctor  Braid's 
works  are  Liebault,  Bernheim  and  Beaunis  of  Nancy,  and 
Charcot  of  Paris,  while  scarcely  less  valuable  to  science 
have  been  the  labors  as  demonstrators,  or  critical  observers, 
of  Paul  Richer,  P.  David,  Professor  Luys,  Janet,  Richet, 
Voisin  and  Reginald  of  Paris.* 

In  1878,  Charcot  began  a  series  of  strictly  scientific 
investigations.  He  operated,  however,  only  on  hysterical 
subjects,  believing  that  only  a  few  people  were  susceptible, 
and  they  among  the  weak,  sickly  and  nervous.  Indeed, 
until  within  the  last  decade  this  was  the  general  impression. 
Recent  experiments,  however,  as  Bjornstrom  has  observed, 
with  elaborate  statistics  furnished  by  the  Nancy  physi 
cians,  prove  that  "almost  any  one  can  be  hypnotized." 
Some  persons,  however,  yield  much  more  easily  than  others. 

*  Ochorowicz,  a  Polish  scholar  who  resides  in  Paris,  and  Dr.  Frederick  Bjornstrom,  the 
head  physician  of  the  Stockholm  hospital,  have  contributed  works  of  great  value  to 
the  literature  of  hypnotism.  Their  writings  have  been  translated  into  English.  To 
the  latter  author  I  am  indebted  for  many  interesting  facts  and  striking  illustra 
tions  given.  I  am  also  indebted  to  the  work  of  Prof.  William  James,  of  Harvard,  and 
Part  XVIII.  of  Proceedings  of  the  English  Society  for  Psychical  Research  for  valuable 
illustrations  and  well-authenticated  cases. 


Hypnotism,  165 

The  eminent  author  further  observes  that  "  Climate  seems  to 
have  the  effect  of  making  hypnotization  much  easier  in 
warm  and  southern  countries  than  in  cold  and  northern. 
Thus  the  French  show  a  far  greater  susceptibility  than  the 
Scandinavians  and  Germans.  In  the  tropics, hypnosis  is  said 
to  appear  rapidly,  and  to  become  very  deep."* 

III. 

This  brings  us  to  the  examination  of  some  typical  cases 
exhibited  by  the  hypnotic  trance  and  the  legitimate  infer 
ences  which  they  suggest  relating  to  the  power  not  only  of 
mind  over  mind,  but  what  is  still  more  at  variance  with 
popular  conceptions,  the  power  of  mind  over  matter.  In  this 
paper,  space  prevents  my  introducing  many  illustrations  from 
the  vast  accumulation  of  well-authenticative  cases  at  hand. 
I  shall  confine  myself  to  typical  cases  which  open  up  many 
vistas  for  speculation  and  profound  inquiry,  while  they  mate 
rially  aid  in  completely  revolutionizing  old  ideas  and  popular 
conceptions  as  to  the  limitations  of  the  human  mind.  The 
first  illustration  I  wish  to  introduce  reveals  the  power  of  the 
human  mind  under  certain  conditions  to  receive  and  hold 
mental  pictures,  which  afterward  may  express  themselves 
upon  the  body  of  the  individual  in  such  a  manner  as  to  pro 
duce  well-defined  diseases,  which  naturally  resist  the  well- 
intentioned  drugging  of  the  physician  who  blindly  attacks 
the  symptoms  in  his  ignorance  of  the  cause  of  the  misery.  In 
Professor  James'  thoughtful  paper  on  "The  Hidden  Self," 
he  cites  at  length  a  most  interesting  and  suggestive  case, 
primarily  recorded  by  M.  Pierre  Janet,  Professor  of  Philoso 
phy  in  the  Lycee  of  Havre,  in  his  volume  entitled  "De  1' 
Automatisms  Psychologique."  f 

In  presenting  this  case  I  cannot  do  better  than  give  verba 
tim  Professor  James'  admirable  summary,  which  is  as  fol 
lows  :  — 

*  From  1850  to  1860  hypnotism  was  used  on  a  large  scale  by  Dr.  Esdaile,  head  surgeon 
at  the  hospital  of  Calcutta.  In  six  years  he  performed  six  hundred  operations  on 
hypnotized  Hindoos,  and  a  committee  of  surgeons  and  physicians  appointed  by  the 
Indian  government  testified  to  his  great  success,  which  was  chiefly  derived  from  the 
fact  that  the  most  difficult  operations  could  usually  be  made  without  a  sign  of  pain 
from  the  patient,  and  without  memory  when  they  awaked,  of  what  had  been  done  to 
them.  The  Hindoos,  however,  are  said  to  be  very  susceptible  to  hypnotism. —  [Dr. 
Frederick  Bjb'rnstrom,  in  his  work  on  Hypnotism.] 

t  This  work  comprises  about  five  hundred  pages.  It  served  as  the  author's  thesis 
for  doctorate  of  Science  in  Paris  and  produced  a  great  sensation  when  given  to  the 
scientific  world. 


166  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas, 

The  story  is  that  of  a  young  girl  of  nineteen  named  Marie, 
who  came  to  the  hospital  in  an  almost  desperate  condition,  with 
monthly  convulsive  crises,  chill,  fever,  delirium,  attacks  of  terror, 
etc.,  lasting  for  days,  together  with  various  shifting  anesthesias 
and  contractures  all  the  time,  and  a  fixed  blindness  of  the  left 
eye.  At  first  M.  Janet,  divining  no  particular  psychological 
factor  in  the  case,  took  little  interest  in  the  patient,  who  re 
mained  in  the  hospital  for  seven  months,  and  had  all  the  usual 
courses  of  treatment  applied,  including  water-cure  and  ordinary 
hypnotic  suggestions,  without  the  slightest  good  effect. 

She  then  fell  into  a  sort  of  despair,  of  which  the  result  was  to 
make  M.  Janet  try  to  throw  her  into  a  deeper  trance,  so  as  to  get, 
if  possible,  some  knowledge  of  her  remoter  psychologic  antece 
dents,  and  of  the  original  causes  of  the  disease,  of  which,  in  the 
waking  state  and  in  ordinary  hypnotism,  she  could  give  no 
definite  account.  He  succeeded  even  beyond  his  expectations  ; 
for  both  her  early  memories  and  the  internal  memory  of  her 
crisis  returned  in  the  deep  somnambulism,  and  she  explained 
three  things  :  her  periodical  chill,  fever  and  delirium  were  due 
to  a  foolish  immersion  of  herself  in  cold  water  at  the  age  of 
thirteen.  The  chill,  fever,  etc.,  were  consequences  which  then 
ensued  ;  and  now,  years  later,  the  experience  then  stamped  in 
upon  the  brain  for  the  first  time  was  repeating  itself  at  regular 
intervals  in  the  form  of  an  hallucination  undergone  by  the  sub 
conscious  self,  and  of  which  the  primary  personality  only  expe 
rienced  the  outer  results.  The  attacks  of  terror  were  accounted 
for  by  another  shocking  experience.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  she 
had  seen  an  old  woman  killed  by  falling  from  a  height ;  and  the 
sub-conscious  self,  for  reasons  best  known  to  itself,  saw  fit  to 
believe  itself  present  at  this  experience  also  whenever  the  other 
crises  came  on.  The  hysterical  blindness  of  her  left  eye  had  the 
same  sort  of  origin,  dating  back  to  her  sixth  year,  when  she  had 
been  forced,  in  spite  of  her  cries,  to  sleep  in  the  same  bed  with 
another  child,  the  left  half  of  whose  face  bore  a  disgusting  erup 
tion.  The  result  was  an  eruption  on  the  same  parts  of  her  own 
face,  which  came  back  for  several  years  before  it  disappeared 
entirely,  and  left  behind  it  an  anesthesia  of  the  skin  and  the 
blindness  of  the  eye.  So  much  for  the  origin  of  the  poor  girl's 
various  afflictions.  Now  for  the  cure  !  The  thing  needed  was, 
of  course,  to  get  the  sub-conscious  personality  to  leave  off  having 
these  senseless  hallucinations.  But  they  had  become  so  stereo 
typed  and  habitual  that  this  proved  no  easy  task  to  achieve. 
Simple  commands  were  fruitless ;  but  M.  Janet  at  last  hit  upon 
an  artifice,  which  shows  how  many  resources  the  successful  mind- 
doctor  must  possess.  He  carried  the  poor  Marie  back  in  imagi 
nation  to  the  earlier  dates.  It  proved  as  easy  with  her  as  with 


Hypnotism*  IGT 

many  others  when  entranced,  to  produce  the  hallucination  that 
she  was  again  a  child,  all  tnat  was  needed  being  an  impressive 
affirmation  to  that  effect.  Accordingly  M.  Janet,  replacing  her 
in  this  wise  at  the  age  of  six,  made  her  go  through  the  bed-scene 
again,  but  gave  it  a  different  denouement.  He  made  her  believe 
that  the  horrible  child  had  no  eruption  and  was  charming,  so  that 
she  was  finally  convinced,  and  caressed  without  fear  this  new 
object  of  her  imagination.  He  made  her  re-enact  the  scene  of 
the  cold  immersion,  but  gave  it  also  an  entirely  different  result. 
He  made  her  live  again  through  the  old  woman's  accident,  but 
substituted  a  comical  issue  for  the  old  tragical  one  which  had 
made  so  deep  an  impression.  The  sub-conscious  Marie,  passive 
and  docile  as  usual,  adopted  these  new  versions  of  the  old  tales; 
and  was  apparently  either  living  in  monotonous  contemplation  of 
them  or  had  become  extinct  altogether  when  M.  Janet  wrote  his 
book.  For  all  morbid  symptoms  ceased  as  if  by  magic.  "It  is 
five  months,"  our  author  says,  "  since  these  experiments  were 
performed.  Marie  shows  no  longer  the  slightest  mark  of  hysteria. 
She  is  well,  and,  in  particular,  has  grown  quite  stout.  Her 
physical  aspect  has  absolutely  changed." 

A  number  of  similar  illustrations  might  be  given,  indica 
ting  the  susceptibility  of  the  mind  in  certain  conditions  to 
receive  mental  pictures,  which  later,  sometimes  many  years 
elapsing,  are  developed  in  such  a  manner  as  to  produce  the 
most  aggravated  symptoms  of  disease  in  the  physical  body; 
disease  which  naturally  baffles  the  ordinary  drug  treatment; 
indeed,  within  the  past  few  months  I  have  had  my  attention 
called  to  some  most  remarkable  cases,  in  many  respects 
similar  to  that  of  Muie,  in  so  far  as  they  relate  to  severe 
illness  resulting  as  the  expression  or  development  of  a  fear 
arising  from  mental  pictures  of  death  photographed  on  the 
mind  in  former  ye.irs,  and  which  stubbornly  resisted  the 
usual  medical  treatment.  When,  however,  the  true  cause 
was  revealed,  and  the  image  or  photograph  erased  or  sug 
gested  away,  rapid  recovery  followed.  Do  not  understand 
me  to  affirm  that  all  sickness  is  the  result  of  mental  pictures, 
but  incontrovertible  facts,  observed  b}^  the  most  reliable  and 
unquestionable  authorities,  do  indicate  that  in  some  condi 
tions  the  human  mind  receives  upon  its  marvelously  sensi 
tive  plate,  impressions  much  as  the  phonograph  receives  and 
treasures  up  the  most  delicate  notes  of  the  human  voice. 
The  possibilities  of  this  power  as  revealed  in  the  above  illus 
tration,  and  others  which  might  be  cited  from  equally  relia- 


168  persons,  places  ant) 

ble  authorities,  open  a  new  vista  for  human  thought,  and 
aside  from  the  hint  of  vast  and  far-reaching  significance 
which  they  give  to  the  medical  world,  they  open  a  sugges 
tive  line  of  thought  for  scientists  and  philosophers.  Are 
hysterical  and  extremely  nervous  cases  like  that  of  Marie  the 
only  brains  susceptible  to  mental  pictures,  or  is  it  more  proba 
ble  that  they  are  no  exceptions  to  the  general  rule  in  so  far  as 
the  power  of  the  human  mind  extends,  but  that  the  weakened 
condition  of  the  nervous  system  in  these  cases  calls  out, 
develops,  or  intensifies  pictures  which  suggest  death?  Is  it 
not  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  human  mind  may  catch 
and  hold  all  thoughts  and  impressions,  all  pictures  and  sounds 
which  enter  the  brain  ?  We  cannot  understand  exactly  how 
the  fruit-bearing  plant  catches,  appropriates,  and  holds  in 
the  laboratory  of  its  being  that  wonderful  fragrance,  delicate 
flavor  and  the  rich,  luscious  pulp  of  the  fruit  which  follows 
the  beautiful  and  often  many-tinted  bloom.  To  me  it  seems 
more  probable  that  the  conditions  exhibited  in  the  special 
cases  which  are  usually  termed  hysterical,  are  merely  the 
coming  to  the  surface  of  some  of  the  hidden  mysteries  of 
mind,  than  that  an  instrument  which  by  nature  and  construc 
tion  was  not  intended  to  secure  and  hold  enduring  impres 
sions  should  be,  through  nervous  disorder,  so  radically,  nay, 
almost  functionally,  changed  as  to  receive  impressions  or 
pictures  and  retain  them  for  years,  later  expressing  them 
on  the  body,  as  in  the  case  of  "  Marie."  An  illustration 
which  is  important  in  its  bearing  on  this  thought,  is  given 
by  Prof.  J.  Luys,  member  of  the  Academy  of  Medicine  of 
Paris.  In  speaking  of  the  power  of  hypnotism  to  bring 
out  the  hidden,  unsuspected  treasures  of  the  mind  he  says, 
in  the  course  of  an  able  paper  in  an  English  review :  — 

I  once  heard  a  young  married  lady  who  had  listened  to  one  of 
my  lectures  repeat  the  lecture  several  months  afterwards  in  a 
state  of  somnambulism  with  the  utmost  accuracy,  reproducing  like 
a  phonograph  the  very  tones  of  my  voice,  using  every  gesture 
that  I  used,  and  adapting,  too,  in  a  remarkable  way,  her  words  to 
her  subject.  A  year  afterwards  this  lady  had  still  the  same  ca 
pacity,  and  displayed  it  every  time  she  was  put  into  a  state  of 
somnambulism.  And,  extraordinary  as  it  may  seem,  when  once 
awakened  she  was  utterly  unable  to  repeat  to  me  a  single  word 
of  the  lecture.  She  said  she  did  not  listen  to  it,  she  understood 
not  a  word  of  it,  and  could  not  say  a  single  line. 


Hypnotism*  169 

I  am  aware  that  it  will  be  urged  that  while  in  cases  like 
Marie's  the  mind  seems  largely  to  dominate  the  body,  indeed 
so  much  so  as  to  render  the  patient  a  physical  wreck  until  the 
hypnotizer  eradicates  the  morbid  pictures,  nevertheless  these 
are  troubles  more  or  less  dependent  upon  the  nervous  organ 
ism  which  it  is  now  being  grudgingly  granted  is  largely 
under  the  dominion  of  the  mind.* 

The  narration  of  a  series  of  experiments  which  I  will  now 
give,  however,  carries  us  a  step  further,  demonstrating  that 
through  hypnotism  sensation  may  be  abolished,  false  sensa 
tion  may  be  established,  and  that  in  some  cases,  at  least, 
results  do  not  necessarily  end  with  the  waking  of  the  sub 
ject.  Some  of  these  instances  have  great  scientific  value, 
revealing,  or  at  least  hinting  at,  mental  possibilities  hitherto 
undreamed-of.  They  demonstrate  the  power  of  mind  over 
matter  (in  cases  where  the  subject  readily  yields  to  sugges 
tions)  which  a  few  years  ago  would  have  been  scornfully 
rejected  by  the  scientific  world  as  manifestly  absurd  and 
impossible. 

The  cases  in  Avhich  hypnotism  has  been  substituted  for 
ether,  chloroform  and  other  anaesthetics,  where  limbs  Avere 
to  be  amputated  and  other  serious  surgical  operations  per 
formed,  are  now  so  common  as  to  no  longer  occasion  sur 
prise,  and  for  lack  of  space  I  will  content  myself  with  citing 
a  few  lines  from  Prof.  Win.  James'  Psychology :  — 


*In  speaking  of  the  power  of  suggestion  on  the  nervous  organism,  Bjornstrom  says:  — 

The  whole  motor  apparatus  also  may,  by  degrees  or  all  at  once,  become  the  object 
of  negative  suggestion,  and  by  this  all  kinds  of  lameness  or  paralysis  can  be  caused. 

Also,  independently  of  hypnotism,  lameness  has  been  found  as  the  result  of  purely 
psychical  causes.  Iii  1869/Russel  Reynolds,  the  prominent  English  physician,  pub 
lished  a  case  of  lameness  in  consequence  of  spontaneous  imagination  of  the  sutterer 
( "  dependent  on  idea  "  ).  A  young  ffirl  lived  alone  with  her  father,  who,  after  various 
sorrows  and  reverses,  grew  lame.  In  order  to  support  the  family  the  girl  had  to  give 
lessons,  and  for  this  purpose  had  to  walk  long  distances.  With  anxiety  she  soon 
began  to  think  that  she  also  might  become  lame,  and  that  their  condition  would  then 
become  still  worse.  Under  the  influence  of  this  idea,  which  never  left  her,  she  began 
to  feel  hpr  legs  grow  weaker  and  weaker,  until  she  could  no  longer  walk.  R.,  who 
soon  understood  the  cause,  adopted  an  exclusively  mental  treatment;  he  gradually 
convinced  her  that  she  was  able  to  walk,  and  she  soon  became  entirely  well. 

Charcot.  Bernheim,  and  others  have,  however,  produced  the  greatest  number  of 
proofs  of  how  easily  paralysis  is  caused  by  hypnotic  suggestion.  Here  the  lameness 
may  be  confined  to'  one  muscle,  or  to  a  whole  limb,  or  to  certain  combined  muscular 
movements  concerned  in  a  certain  action  —  such  as  sewing,  writing,  smoking,  sing 
ing,  speaking,  plavine  on  the  piano,  standing,  walking,  etc.,  etc.  '"By  negative  sugges 
tion,  such  anesthesia  can  be  produced  just  as  well  as  systematized  paralysis.  It 
would  take  too  much  space  further  to  discuss  the  many  kinds  of  paralysis  that  can  be 
caused,  not  only  with  reference  to  the  external  result,  but  with  reference  to  the  inter 
nal  mechani«m. 

According  to  Voisin's  experience,  mental  diseases  of  many  years'  standing  have 
thus  been  cured  in  two  or  three  seances.  Hysterical  persons  have  proved  most  sus 
ceptible  to  the  method,  but  he  has  also  succeeded  with  epileptics,  dipsomaniacs,  and 
others  mentally  diseased.  Finally  Voisin  exclaims  :  •"  It  would  be  fortunate  for  the 
mentally  diseased,  if  they  were  all  susceptible  to  hypnotism." 


170  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas* 

Legs  and  breasts  may  be  amputated,  children  born,  teeth  ex 
tracted,  in  short  the  most  painful  experiences  undergone,  with  no 
other  anaesthetic  than  the  hypnotizer's  assurance  that  no  pain 
shall  be  felt.  Similarly  morbid  pains  may  be  annihilated,  neural 
gias,  toothaches,  rheumatisms  cured.  The  sensation  of  hunger 
has  thus  been  abolished,  so  that  a  patient  took  no  nourishment 
for  fourteen  days. 

Phenomena,  however  wonderful  they  may  be,  which  occur 
when  patients  are  in  the  trance,  are  less  important  to  us  in 
our  present  pursuit  than  those  which  affect  the  patient  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  reveal  the  power  of  mind  over  body 
in  a  waking  condition.  Such,  for  instance,  as  when  the 
hypnotizer  suggests  that  he  has  dropped  some  boiling  oil, 
water  or  wax  on  the  patient,  when  in  reality  he  only  places 
a  little  cold  water  or  touches  the  surface  with  his  finger. 
After  the  subject  awakens,  however,  inflammatory  symptoms 
are  soon  visible,  and  a  blister  ensues,  as  aggravated  in  every 
respect  as  if  the  subject  had  actually  suffered  from  boiling 
wax,  oil,  or  water.  Experiments  of  this  character  have 
repeatedly  been  made  by  Professor  Charcot,  of  Paris,  and 
numbers  of  other  scientists.  In  the  July  issue  of  the  Pro 
ceedings  of  the  English  Society  for  Psychical  Research,  Dr. 
Alfred  Backman,  of  Kalmar,  a  Avell-known  Swedish  physi 
cian  and  writer,  gives  the  following  interesting  account  of 
an  experiment  of  this  character :  — 

The  subject  whom  I  consider  my  best  clairvoyant  is  named 
Alma  Radberg.  She  is  a  maid-servant,  and  is  now  aged  about 
twenty-six.  As  a  child  and  young  girl  she  was  sickly  and  deli 
cate,  but  now,  after  a  course  of  hypnotic  treatment,  she  is  healthy, 
strong,  and  vigorous.  She  is  a  very  pious  and  good  girl,  of  some 
intelligence,  and  by  no  means  a  hysterical  person.  She  has 
kindly  allowed  me  and  some  others  to  make  innumerable  experi 
ments  on  her,  and  she  is  extremely  susceptible  to  suggestion,  both 
awake  and  hypnotized.  All  kinds  of  experiments,  such  as  stig- 
matization,  etc.,  have  been  made  on  her  successfully,  both  in  the 
waking  and  the  hypnotic  state.  I  may  relate  in  passing  one  in 
stance  that  seems  to  me  remarkable.  In  the  middle  of  an  experi 
ment,  I  put  a  drop  of  water  on  her  arm,  suggesting  to  her  that  it 
was  a  drop  of  burning  sealing  wax,  and  that  it  would  produce  a 
blister.  During  the  progress  of  the  experiment,  I  accidentally 
touched  the  water,  making  it  spread  on  her  skin,  whereupon  I 
hastened  to  wipe  it  away.  The  blister,  which  appeared  the  next 
day,  extended  as  far  as  the  water  had  run,  just  as  if  it  had  been 
a  corroding  acid. 


Ibppnottstru  i"i 

I  now  give  some  still  more  interesting  experiments  of  this 
character,  related  by  Bjornstrum  in  his  work  on  hypnotism  :  - 

We  begin  with  Beaunis'  experiment  of  changing  the  beatings 
of  the  heart  by  suggestion.  Both  Lieba-ult  and  Beaunis  had 
noticed  that  by  suggestion  they  could  relieve  palpitation  and 
regulate  the  action  of  the  heart  in  somnambulists.  This  subject  B. 
submitted  to  strictly  scientific  investigation  with  the  aid  of  the 
usual  instruments  of  physiologists  for  recording  the  movements 
of  the  heart;  and  he  found  clear  proofs  of  the  fact,  that  the 
heart  could  be  made  by  suggestion  to  beat  more  slowly  or  more 
rapidly,  probably  by  stimulating  or  paralyzing  action  on  the  in 
hibitory  centres  of  the  heart. 

But  this  is  not  all ;  by  suggestion  a  much  more  heightened 
effect  can  be  produced  in  this  direction.  The  congestion  may  be 
carried  still  further  —  to  a  raised  swelling  of  the  skin,  to  a  blister 
(as  from  Spanish  flies).  Concerning  this,  Beaunis  relates  the 
following  experiment,  for  the  truth,  of  which  he  vouches.  A 
skilled  physiologist  and  experienced  experimentalist,  he  would  not 
allow  himself  to  be  easily  deceived. 

The  experiments  were  made  on  a  young  girl  —  Elise  F., —  first 
by  Facachon,then  also  by  Beaunis.  One  day,  when  Elise  com 
plained  of  a  pain  in  the  left  groin,  F.  made  her  believe,  after  he 
had  hypnotized  her,  that  a  blister  would  form  on  the  aching  spot, 
just  as  from  a  plaster  of  Spanish  flies.  The  next  morning,  there 
appeared  on  the  left  groin  a  blister  filled  with  serum,  although 
nothing  had  been  applied  there. 

On  another  occasion,  he  cured  neuralgia  in  the  region  of  the 
right  clavicle  by  merely  causing,  by  suggestion,  a  blister  resem 
bling  in  every  respect  an  ordinary  burn.  Afterwards  several  such 
experiments  were  successfully  made  on  Elise.  We  quote  only 
one,  which  was  made  under  the  closest  control,  before  the  eyes  of 
several  scientists — .Beaunis,  Liebault,  and  others.  On  the  twelfth 
of  May,  in  1885,  Elise  was  hypnotized  toward  11  A.  M.  On  her 
back,  at  a  point  which  the  girl  could  not  possibly  reach  with  her 
hand,  a  strip  of  eight  gummed  stamps  was  fastened,  after  a  strip 
of  the  same  kind  had  for  eighteen  hours  been  applied  to  the  arm 
of  another  person,  without  causing  the  slightest  effect.  Over  the 
stamps  an  ordinary  bandage  was  fixed,  so  as  to  simulate  a  plaster 
of  Spanish  flies,  and  she  was  three  times  given  to  understand  that 
Spanish  flies  had  been  applied  to  her.  She  was  closely  watched 
during  the  day  and  was  locked  up  alone  in  her  chamber  over 
night,  after  she  had  been  put  in  hypnotic  sleep  with  the  assertion 
that  she  was  not  going  to  awake  until  seven  o'clock  on  the  follow 
ing  morning, — •  which  took  place  punctually.  An  hour  later, 
F.  removed  the  bandage  in  the  presence  of  Bernheim,  Liegeois, 


17:2  persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas. 

Liebault,  Beaunis,  etc.  It  was  first  ascertained  that  the 
stamps  had  not  been  disturbed.  They  were  removed  and  the 
underlying  surface  of  the  skin  now  showed  the  following  changes : 
on  a  space  of  four  or  live  centimetres  the  epidermis  was  thicker, 
yellowish  white,  and  inflamed,  but  as  yet  not  raised  into  blisters ; 
the  surrounding  skin  showed  intense  redness  and  swelling  to  the 
extent  of  half  a  centimetre.  The  spot  was  covered  with  a  dry 
compress,  in  order  to  be  further  investigated  later  on ;  three 
hours  after,  the  spot  had  the  same  appearance.  At  4  p.  M.  the 
spot  was  photographed,  and  it  now  showed  four  or  five  blisters, 
which  also  plainly  appeared  in  the  photograph.  These  blisters 
gradually  increased  and  secreted  a  thick,  milky  serum.  On  the 
twenty-eighth  of  May  —  fourteen  days  later  —  the  spot  was  still 
in  full  suppuration. 

On  the  thirtieth  of  May,  F.  produced  by  suggestion  another 
Spanish  fly  blister  on  her  arm. 

This  case  is  not  the  only  one.  On  another  girl — Marie  G. — who 
had  for  three  months  suffered  greatly  from  neuralgia,  F.  produced 
by  suggestion  two  such  blisters  in  succession,  each  the  size  of  a 
five-franc  piece,  one  below  the  left  ear,  the  other  on  the  left  tem 
ple.  These  required  forty-eight  hours  to  become  fully  developed. 
The  neuralgia  disappeared  after  twelve  hypnotic  seances.  After 
these  successes,  F.  tried  on  Elise  an  experiment  in  the  opposite 
direction,  that  is,  by  negative  suggestion  to  make  a  real  Spanish 
fly  plaster  inactive.  For  this  purpose  a  plaster  was  cut  into  three 
parts  ;  the  first  was  applied  to  Elise's  left  arm,  the  second  to  her 
right  arm,  the  third  on  a  sick  person  who  needed  such  treatment. 
Elise  was  hypnotized  and  F.  made  her  believe  that  the  plaster  on 
her  left  arm  would  not  have  any  effect.  This  took  place  at  11 
A.  M.  Elise  was  closely  watched  until  8  P.  M.,  when  the  ban 
dage  was  removed,  after  F.  had  satisfied  himself  that  it  had  not 
been  disturbed.  On  her  left  arm  the  skin  was  unchanged,  on  her 
right  the  skin  was  red  and  showed  the  beginning  of  a  formation 
of  a  blister.  The  plaster  was  again  applied ;  after  three-quar 
ters  of  a  hour  a  normal  blister  was  found  on  the  right  arm,  but 
on  the  left  —  nothing. 

The  third  piece,  which  was  placed  on  the  abdomen  of  the 
other  patient,  had  raised  a  large  blister  after  eight  hours. 

Several  other  physicians  have  related  similar  facts.  As  early 
as  1840,  Louis  Prejalmini,  the  Italian  physician,  mentions  similar 
experiments,  when  with  "  magnetized  paper  "  he  caused  the  same 
effect  as  with  Spanish  flies.  It  is  evident  that  the  active  cause 
was  not  the  magnetized  paper,  but  the  suggestion. 

Something  perhaps  no  more  remarkable,  but  interesting  as 
giving  further  proof  of  the  potential  power  of  mind  over 


Hypnotism.  173 

matter,  is  seen  in  the  following  experiment  related  by  Prof. 
Wm.  James  in  his  Psychology :  — 

Changes  in  the  nutrition  of  the  tissues  may  he  produced  by 
suggestion.  These  effects  lead  into  therapeutics  —  a  subject 
which  I  do  not  propose  to  treat  here.  But  I  may  say  that  there 
seems  no  reasonable  ground  for  doubting  that  in  certain  chosen 
subjects  the  suggestion  of  a  congestion,  a  burn,  a  blister,  a  raised 
papule,  or  bleeding  from  the  nose  or  skin,  may  produce  the 
effect.  Messrs.  Beaunis,  Berjon,  Bernheim,  Bourru,  Burot, 
Charcot,  Delboeuf,  Dumontpallier,  Facachon,  Forel,  Jendrassik, 
Krafft-Ebing,  Liebault,  Liegeois,  Lipp,  Mabille  and  others  have 
recently  vouched  for  one  or  other  of  these  effects.  Messrs. 
Delboeuf  and  Liegeois  have  annulled  by  suggestion,  one  the 
effects  of  a  burn,  the  other  of  a  blister.  Delboeuf  was  led  to 
his  experiments  after  seeing  a  burn  on  the  skin  produced  by  sug 
gestion,  at  the  Salpetriere,  by  reasoning  that  if  the  idea  of 
a  pain  could  produce  inflammation  it  must  be  because  pain  was 
itself  an  inflammatory  irritant,  and  that  the  abolition  of  it  from  a 
real  burn  ought,  therefore,  to  entail  the  absence  of  inflammation. 
He  applied  the  actual  cautery  [as  well  as  vesicants]  to  symmet 
rical  places  on  the  skin,  affirming  that  no  pain  should  be  felt  on 
one  of  the  sides.  The  result  teas  a  dry  scorch  on  that  side,  with 
[as  he  assures  me]  no  after-mark,  but  on  the  other  side  a  regular 
blister  with  suppuration  and  a  subsequent  scar.  This  explains 
the  innocuity  of  certain  assaults  made  on  subjects  during  trance. 
To  test  simulation,  recourse  is  often  had  to  sticking  pins  under 
their  finger-nails  or  through  their  tongue,  to  inhalations  of  strong 
ammonia,  and  the  like.  These  irritations,  when  not  felt  by  the 
subject,  seem  to  leave  no  after-consequences. 

A  great  number  of  similar  cases  of  the  most  authentic 
character  might  be  cited.  I,  however,  have  found  it  neces 
sary  to  confine  myself  to  brief  summaries  of  interesting 
experiments  by  eminent  scientific  specialists,  which  clearly 
hint  at  the  power  of  the  human  mind.  And  what  a  world 
of  thought  these  clearly  demonstrated  facts  open  up.  How 
many  legitimate  inferences  are  in  them  embodied,  as  for 
example  (1)  the  power  of  the  mind  to  catch,  hold,  and  per 
haps  in  after  years  express  the  mental  picture  received  in 
former  years,  as  illustrated  in  the  first  class  of  cases  cited. 
(2)  The  absolute  domination  of  the  human  will  by  another 
mind,  even  to  the  degree  of  obliteration  of  consciousness  and 
sensation,  so  that  at  the  suggestion  of  the  operator,  a  patient 
may  imagine  he  is  enjoying  a  delicious  banquet,  at  the  very 


174  persons,  places  anfc  Ufceas, 

time  when  a  limb  is  being  amputated.  (3)  The  absolute 
power  of  mind  over  matter,  as  emphaszied  in  the  cases  cited 
by  Doctors  Bjornstrom  and  Backman,  and  Professor  Wm. 
James.  Of  course  it  must  be  understood  that  these  results 
were  obtained  only  in  cases  Avhere  the  subjects  were 
peculiarly  sensitive  to  the  suggestion  of  the  hypnotizer, 
where  the  mind  was  plastic  as  clay  in  the  hand  of  the  sculp 
tor.  Yet  it  none  the  less  proves  the  potential  power  of  the 
human  mind  over  even  the  flesh  of  the  body.  It  serves 
clearly  to  reveal,  as  I  have  before  observed,  a  potential 
supremacy  of  mind  over  matter  undreamed  of  a  generation 
ago.  For,  after  granting  that  the  subjects  come  under  this 
power  only  by  virtue  of  a  negative  condition  of  the  mind  or 
a  weakened  nervous  condition,  they  indicate  none  the  less 
significantly  the  power  of  the  mind  over  the  body.  Indeed 
wre  could  not  expect  a  more  general  exhibition  of  receptivity 
of  the  power  of  the  mind,  when  we  consider  the  natural 
result  of  ages  of  education,  when  notwithstanding  all  talk 
to  the  contrary,  the  mind  has  in  reality  been  subordinated  to 
the  appetites,  the  passions  and  desires  of  the  body;  while 
philosophy,  as  well  as  physical  science,  have  for  generations 
schooled  the  human  intellect  to  look  with  suspicion  on 
everything  save  what  appealed  to  the  physical  senses; 
hence  all  mental  phenomena  necessarily  encounter  among 
the  educated,  the  repellant  waves  of  incredulity,  even  when 
there  is  an  absence  of  actual  hostility.  In  this  connection  it 
is  interesting  to  note  the  observations  of  Drs.  Milne  Bram- 
well  and  Lloyd  Storr  Best  in  an  able  paper  on  hypnotism  in 
The  Neiv  Review  :  — 

On  the  other  hand,  the  power  of  suggestion  to  produce  sleep 
cannot  be  denied,  nor  can  hysterical  subjects  be  regarded  as 
alone  presenting  the  phenomena  of  hypnotism  in  their  complete 
development. 

The  writers  of  the  present  paper,  having  carefully  repeated  the 
most  important  experiments  of  the  Nancy  school,  are  convinced 
of  the  truth  of  Liebault's  statement,  that  persons  in  the  enjoy 
ment  of  perfect  health  are  often  extremely  susceptible  to  hypnotic 
influence. 

Profoundly  interested  in  the  science,  and  wishing  to  verify  the 
extraordinary  results  obtained  by  the  school  of  Nancy,  we  insti 
tuted  some  time  back  a  series  of  experiments,  taking  as  subjects 
any  healthy  male  who  would  voluntarily  submit  to  the  tria1. 
These  experiments  were  eminently  successful,  for  out  of  a  total  of 


Hypnotism,  i"5 

fifty  cases  not  only  was  there  no  single  instance  of  failure,  but  in 
the  great  majority  complete  somnambulism  was  produced. 

Great  misconception  appears  to  exist  in  England  concerning  the 
number  and  nature  of  those  who  may  be  hypnotized  ;  instance  the 
following  quotation  from  "Science  Jottings  "in  the  Illustrated 
London  News,  May  3,1890: — "It  is  impossible  to  hypnotize 
everyone  ;  and,  as  far  as  my  experience  of  it  goes,  only  in  the 
case  of  the  intellectually  sensitive  —  shall  I  add  weak? — can  hyp 
notism  hope  to  secure  its  most  characteristic  effects."  The  emi 
nent  physiologist  Beaunis  is,  on  the  contrary,  of  the  opinion  that 
everyone  is  more  or  less  susceptible  to  hypnotic  influence,  and 
our  own  experience  goes  far  to  confirm  this,  for  out  of  several 
hundreds  of  patients  treated  hypnotically  we  have  not  yet  met 
with  one  whom  we  might  fairly  class  amongst  the  "  non-influ 
ences." 

As  to  the  nature  of  those  who  are  most  easily  influenced, 
we  find  the  greatest  difficulty  presented  in  cases  such  as  those 
above  quoted,  while  educated  non-neurotic  subjects,  who  are 
capable  of  concentrating  their  attention  on  the  mental  picture  of 
sleep  presented  to  them,  are  nearly  if  not  quite  as  easily  hypno 
tized  as  the  credulous  peasant. 

This  goes  far  toward  confirming  our  view,  that  it  is  more 
reasonable  to  regard  the  phenomenon  of  the  mind  controlling 
the  body  [to  such  an  extent  as  that  given  above]  as  the  revela 
tion  of  power  inherent  in  mind,  but  weakened  and  no 
longer  assertive  through  centuries  of  false  education,  in 
which  the  body  has  received  supreme  attention  along  these 
special  lines,  than,  to  suppose  that  this  marvelous  extension 
of  the  limitations  of  mind,  this  supremacy  of  mind  over 
body,  is  due  merely  to  a  diseased  or  immature  state  of  the 
mind,  as  is  argued  by  the  same  conservative  thinkers  who 
first  dogmatically  denied  the  possibility  of  the  hypnotic 
power,  then  grudgingly  admitted  to  it  in  rare  cases  of 
hysterical  females,  and  who  now  declare  that  it  is  merely 
the  outcropping  of  a  rapidly  disappearing  and  immature  state 
of  man's  mental  and  nervous  organism.  Another  thought  in 
this  connection  is  valuable,  and  that  is,  the  value  of  hyp 
notism  as  a  moral  agent.*  A  great  number  of  drunkards  have 

*  I  am  aware  of  the  great  cry  which  has  gone  forth  as  to  the  dangers  of  hypnotism, 
nor  would  I  in  any  way  minify  the  danger.  All  great  discoveries  carry  with  them 
the  possibilities  of  evil.  Take  for  example,  electricity  or  steam,  which  in  the  hands  of 
the  ignorant  or  evily  disposed  may  work  great  injury  and  be  a  terrible  curse.  Even  the 
brilliant  power  of  the  orator  if  unaccompanied  by  moral  rectitude,  may  prove  a  great 
curse,  as  has  so  often  been  exhibited.  So  hypnotism  in  the  hands  of  the  ignorant 
or  the  base  may  and  often  has  proved  a  terrible  curse.  This,  however,  is  no  reason 
why  it  should  be  discarded,  nor  dop«  it  prove  that  it  i*  in  itself  injurious.  While  on 
the  other  hand  Drs.  Bramwell  and  Best,  quoted  elsewhere,  declare  that  where  proper 


176  persons,  places  ant)  flfceas, 

been  redeemed  through  this  agency,  while  criminal  propen 
sities  in  children  have  been  greatly  modified,  and  in  many 
instances  entirely  removed,  by  suggestions.  Liebault  claims 
to  have  employed  hypnotism  as  a  moral  agent  in  several 
thousands  of  cases,  always  with  beneficial  results.  While 
in  reply  to  the  cry  so  frequently  raised  by  conservative  phy 
sicians  who  know  little  about  hypnotism,  that  it  weakens 
the  mind,  Dr.  Hamilton  Osgood,  one  of  the  leading  physi 
cians  of  Boston,  and  a  gentleman  who  has  had  probably 
greater  experience  in  suggestion  than  any  other  New  Eng 
land  doctor,  declares  that  in  his  practice  he  has  seen  nothing 
but  beneficial  results  and  increasing  vigor,  mental  as  well 
as  bodily,  from  its  employment  when  indicated. 

IV. 

In  this  paper,  my  first  purpose  was  to  indicate  the  fact 
that  even  in  the  scientific  world,  the  old  ideas  of  mental 
limitation  have  radically  changed.  The  closed  door  has  been 
partially  opened.  We  have  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  potential 
ity  of  the  human  mind.  Moreover,  evidence  of  the  most  un 
questioned  character  is  day  by  day  being  accumulated,  which 

precautions  are  taken,  no  injurious  effects  will  follow  hypnotism,  when  intelligent 
and  conscientious  persons  exercise  tliis  power.  On  this  point  these  physicians 
declare  : 

"  At  the  commencement  of  our  hypnotic  practice  we  were  much  perplexed  by  the 
difficulty  of  finding  some  efficient  means  of  preserving  the  personality  and  will  of 
patients  intact.  We  were  fortunate  enough,  however,  to  discover  what  has,  up  to  the 
present,  proved  a  perfect  safeguard,  which  consists  in  the  constant  inculcation 
during  hypnosis  of  two  idees  fixes  to  the  effect  that  no  one  should  be  able  to  hypnotize 
the  patient  without  his  express  permission,  and  that  no  suggestion  should  be  effectual 
which  would  be  disapproved  by  him  in  his  normal  condition.  This  precaution  has 
been  found  thus  far  eminently  satisfactory. 

"Once  let  the  general  public  be  made  acquainted  with  the  necessity  of  the  above- 
mentioned  precautions,  and  all  danger  of  undue  influence  being  exerted  by  the 
medical  man  will  vanish.  Any  person  presenting  himself  for  hypnotic  treatment 
would  bring  with  him  a  trusted  friend,  who  should  see  that  thes'e  two  ideas  were 
suggested  to  him  at  each  hypnotization,  until  profound  hypnosis  was  produced." 

Dr.  Hamilton  Osgood,  in" an  able  address  before  the  Boston  Society  for  Medical 
Improvement,  observes:  "In  a  letter  I  have  just  received  from  Liebault,  he  says, 
'  The  accidents  in  hypnotism  are  due  wholly  to  the  ignorant  or  giddy  tricks  of  the 
operator,'  and,  he  continues:  "In  the  Revue  dc  I' Ilijiniot.innie  for  December  Last, 
Bernheim  gives  utterance  to  his  latest  views  after  nine  years  of  hypnotic  practice, 
with  reference  to  the  dangers  of  hypnotism."  In  this  extract  from  a  lecture  to  his 
students,  he  says:  "  Does  suggestion  as  we  practise  it,  with  a  therapeutic  object, 
present  any  danger  whatever?  ...  It  is  a  singular  thing  that  some  years  ago,  I 
recall  that  when  a  practice  more  bloody  than  hypnotism  —  ovariotomy  —  made  its 
entrance  into  modern  surgerv,  eminent  professors  in  the  society  of  surgery  were 
found,  who  said:  'This  operation  belongs  to  the  office  of  the  public  executioner.' 
To-day,  ovariotomy  no  longer  has  any  enemies.  One  goes  so  far  as  to  perform  the 
operation  upon  the  hysterical  under  pretext  of  curing  them.  No  voice  is  raised 
against  this  procedure,  but  anathemas  are  poured  upon  the  inoffensive  suggestion 
which  does  cure  hysteria.  I  appeal  to  the  numerous  students  and  colleagues,  who  for 
several  years  have  followed  my  clinic :  If  you  have  seen  a  solitary  fact  which  bears 
witness'to  a  serious  inconvenience  in  the  suggestive  method,  when  well  applied, 
announce  it. 

"  I  have  seen  many  neuroses  cured;  I  have  never  seen  one  caused  by  suggestion.  I 
have  seen  the  intelligence  restored;  I  have  never  seen  a  mind  enfeebled  by  suggestion." 


Hypnotism,  177 

indicates  the  opening  of  vistas  in  psychical  realms  far  more 
surprising  and  suggestive  than  those  already  exhibited  in 
hypnotism  which  are  accepted  by  science.  Such  discoveries 
as  that  referred  to  by  Prof.  Oliver  Lodge  in  the  follow 
ing  extract  from  his  annual  address,  elsewhere  mentioned :  — 

It  is  possible  that  an  idea  can  be  transferred  from  one  person  to 
another  by  a  process  such  as  we  have  not  yet  grown  accustomed 
to,  and  know  practically  nothing  about.  In  this  case  I  have 
evidence.  I  assert  that  I  have  seen  it  done,  and  am  perfectly 
convinced  of  the  fact.  Many  others  are  satisfied  of  the  truth  of 
it  too.  Why  must  we  speak  of  it  with  bated  breath,  as  of  a  thing 
of  which  we  are  ashamed  ?  What  right  have  we  to  be  ashamed 
of  a  truth  ? 

This  strange  phenomenon  is  popularly  termed  telepathy. 
The  evidences  of  clairvoyance  or  of  soul  projection,  automatic 
writing,  and  other  remarkable  psychic  phenomena  are  being 
rapidly  accumulated  since  sincere  and  patient  scientific  think 
ers  have  engaged  in  the  work.  It  will  take  much  time  to 
overcome  the  prejudice  which  exists  in  the  popular  mind, 
and  to  accumulate  such  a  mass  of  indisputable  evidence  as  to 
compel  the  tardy  acceptance  of  those  eminent  in  other  fields 
of  thought,  who  without  examination  have  scornfully  dis 
missed  the  subject;  yet  enough  has  been  given  to  the  world 
to  convince  those  who  are  searching  for  the  truth  that  we  are 
on  the  threshold  of  a  new  realm  of  discovery, —  a  realm  which 
may  some  day  mark  another  step  in  man's  evolutionary 
progress.  Let  us  not  be  dogmatic,  ever  remembering  the 
thoughtful  words  of  Braid,  "  Unlimited  scepticism  is  equally 
the  child  of  imbecility  as  implicit  credulity." 


Crucial  fIDoments  in  IRational  Xife, 


HUMANITY  is  rising.  Life,  as  a  whole,  is  ascending.  This  fact 
will  become  obvious  if  we  trace  the  progress  of  man  from  the 
dawn  of  history  to  the  present  time,  in  such  a  comprehensive 
manner  as  to  include  the  people  in  the  aggregate  rather  than 
special  classes,  and  when  we  also  bear  in  mind  the  fact  that 
races,  civilizations  and  nations,  no  less  than  individuals,  have 
their  periods  of  "  depression  and  exaltation,"  that  at  moments  in 
the  existence  of  peoples  and  nationalities,  no  less  than  in  the 
course  of  individual  development,  great  crises  arise.  Two  gates 
open  before  the  people;  two  paths  are  visible;  a  choice  is  nutde 
between  self  love  and  divine  love.  Then  one  gate  closes,  and  for 
a  generation,  a  century  or  a  cycle,  the  life  of  the  nation,  race  or 
civilization  slowly  rises  or  falls.  These  supreme  moments  are 
destiny-fixing  in  character ;  they  give  a  trend  to  thought,  and 
thought  colors  life.  If  the  higher  impulses  rule,  if  the  divine 
rises  superior  to  the  animal,  or,  in  a  word,  if  the  spirit  of  "All 
for  all "  is  more  potent  than  the  spirit  of  "  All  for  self,"  the 
civilization,  race  or  nation  is  rejuvenated.  It  receives  a  moral 
•uplift  —  a  baptism  from  above,  which  is  the  oxygen  of  the  higher 
life. 

While,  however,  it  is  true  that  taken  as  a  whole,  and  compar 
ing  various  stages  of  depression  and  exaltation  with  correspond 
ing  stages  in  the  ebb  and  flow  of  nations  and  civilizations,  it  will 
be  found  that  humanity  is  slowly  rising,  the  important  fact  must 
not  be  ignored  that  the  rise  of  man  is  accelerated  or  retarded  by 
the  influence  of  the  individual.  No  one  is  absolutely  negative. 
Every  life  exerts  an  upward  lift  or  a  downward  pressure,  and 
therefore  a  grave  responsibility  rests  upon  each  human  soul. 
When  individuals  forget  the  sacred  duty  imposed  upon  them  and 
abandon  the  cause  of  justice,  progress  and  humanity  for  material 
comfort  and  selfish  gratification,  manhood  from  the  zenith  to  the 
nadir  of  social  life  suffers  for  the  sins  committed.  When,  a 
nation  comes  to  worship  gold  rather  than  goodness,  so  that  the 
poor  and  unfortunate  are  ground  to  servitude,  while  rare,  sensi 
tive  natures,  whose  ideals  are  high  and  whose  thought  runs 
ahead  of  the  time,  are  systematically  misrepresented,  abused  and 
misinterpreted,  that  nation  enters  upon  a  fatal  decline  which, 

178 


Crucial  fl&omenta  in  national  Xife,        179 

though  it  may  be  lingering  as  a  slow  consumption,  must  termi 
nate  in  death,  unless  the  people  can  be  aroused  so  that  opinion- 
forming  currents,  which  have  become  polluted  by  the  gold  of 
avarice,  no  longer  influence  them,  and,  under  the  impulsion  of  a 
new  hope  and  a  grim  determination  to  secure  justice,  an  awakened 
manhood  succeeds  in  changing  the  current  of  national  life. 

When  in  the  history  of  a  nation  the  shell  of  conventionalism 
encrusts  a  civilization,  a  gross  and  deadly  materialism  crushes 
faith  and  hope,  turns  the  index-finger  downward,  and  sneers  at 
the  ideals  of  duty,  justice  and  love  by  whose  leverage  the  world 
is  raised;  when  human  sympathy  becomes  paralyzed  in  conse 
quence  of  self-absorption ;  when  capital  becomes  more  precious 
than  human  rights;  when  life  is  less  sacred  than  property;  when 
the  letter  is  enlarged  and  the  spirit  disregarded ;  when  theology 
magnifies  the  importance  of  form,  rite  and  ritual  while  industry 
begs  in  vain  for  employment ;  when  widows  starve  and  orphans 
grow  up  amid  an  environment  of  moral  death  ;  when  divine  love 
is  at  a  discount,  and  the  faith  so  loudly  proclaimed  by  the  lips 
finds  no  responsive  echo  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  soul  —  then 
we  have  the  melancholy  spectacle  of  a  nation  which  has  reached 
a  point  beyond  which  it  cannot  go  without  forever  losing  the 
soul  which  made  progress  possible,  and  which  alone  held  the  ele 
ment  of  perpetual  rejuvenation.  Then  the  voice  of  the  divine 
speaks  through  prophets,  poets  and  seers,  crying  <*  Choose."  On 
the  one  side  are  duty,  justice,  love  and  stern  morality;  on  the 
other  the  selfishness  of  pure  animalism  expressed  in  luxury, 
voluptuousness  and  venalit}^.  The  moment  is  supreme.  The 
coronal  region  struggles  with  the  basilar  for  final  supremacy,  and 
the  issue  is  life  or  death ;  not  necessarily  a  sudden  going  out  if 
the  lower  triumphs,  for  sometimes,  as  in  the  civilization  of  Rome, 
a  slow  and  terrible  agony  of  decay  precedes  the  final  downfall. 

We  are  to-day  facing  one  of  these  great  crises.  Professor 
George  D.  Herron  voices  the  common  conviction  of  earnest 
students  of  social  conditions  when  he  says :  — 

We  are  in  the  beginnings  of  a  revolution  that  will  strain  all  existing 
religions  and  political  institutions,  and  test  the  wisdom  and  heroism  of 
the  earth's  purest  and  bravest  sonls.  It  will  not  do  to  say  the  revolu 
tion  is  not  coining,  or  pronounce  it  of  the  devil.  Revolutions,  even  in 
their  wildest  forms,  are  the  impulses  of  God  moving  in  tides  of  fire 
through  the  life  of  man. 

The  slogan  cry  of  "  All  for  all "  is  far  more  noble  than  the 
creed  "All  for  self"  which  has  held  sway  in  the  past.  The 
dogma  of  the  divine  right  of  property  has  too  long  obscured  the 
rights  of  man.  Plundering  by  law  may  be  safe,  but  it  is  not 
moral,  and  throwing  a  few  millions  of  acquired  gold  into  the  lap 
of  philanthropy,  conventional  education  or  a  church  more  awake 


180  persons,  places  anfc  1Ft>eas. 

on  the  material  than  the  spiritual  side  of  her  being,  may  be 
politic,  but  such  acts  do  not  take  away  the  woe  pronounced  by 
Jesus  upon  the  Pharisees  who  paid  tithes  and  posed  as  philan 
thropists  while  they  "devoured  widows'  houses"  and  ignored 
the  "weightier  matters  of  the  law,"  such  as  "judgment  and 
mercy." 

The  hour  for  dreaming  is  past.  Not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost  if 
the  republic  is  to  be  redeemed.  From  this  time  forward  plain 
speaking  will  be  in  order.  The  time  for  the  soul  to  assert  its 
supremacy  has  arrived;  blessed  is  the  man  or  woman  who  makes 
the  great  renunciation,  and  consecrates  life  to  the  cause  of  the 
people  and  for.  the  restoration  of  the  republic  from  the  rule  of 
the  Assyrians. 

"  Hast  tliou  chosen,  O  my  people,  on  whose  party  thou  shalt  stand, 
Ere  the  doom  from  its  worn  sandals  shakes  the  dust  against  our  land? 
Though  the  cause  of  evil  prosper,  yet  'tis  truth  alone  is  strong, 
And,  albeit  she  wander  outcast  now,  I  see  around  her  throng 
Troops  of  beautiful  tall  angels,  to  enshield  her  from  all  wrong." 

"  He's  true  to  God  who's  true  to  man;  wherever  wrong  is  done, 
To  the  humblest  and  the  weakest,  'neath  the  all-beholding  sun, 
That  wrong  is  also  done  to  us;  and  they  are  slaves  most  base, 
Whose  love  of  right  is  for  themselves,  and  not  for  all  their  race. 

"  'Tis  ours  to  save  our  brethren,  with  peace  and  love  to  win 
Their  darkened  hearts  from  error,  ere  they  harden  it  to  sin; 
But  if  before  his  duty  man  with  listless  spirit  stands, 
Erelong  the  Great  Avenger  takes  the  work  from  out  his  hands." 


IRootn  for  tbe  Soul  of  flfearu 


SOME  poets  insist  that  art  must  not  be  made  the  servant  of 
utility.  They  tell  us  that  poetry,  when  it  descends  to  plead  for 
the  oppressed,  the  poor  and  the  miserable,  becomes  intolerable  — 
mark  the  word  "descends."  Art  for  art's  sake,  and  above  all,  poetry 
for  art  alone  ;  such  is  their  creed.  Some  of  these  singers  dwell 
in  the  shadows  of  Niobe,  chanting  sad,  sweet  strains  ;  others  flit 
in  joy-lit,  love-laden  sunbeams,  making  the  heart  glad,  as  swallow- 
like  they  skim  the  surface  of  human  emotion.  Others  there  are 
with  profounder  genius,  who  sound  the  depths  of  the  soul  and 
stir  our  inmost  being.  Still  all  unite  in  the  clamor  of  art  for  art's 
sake.  Why  should  the  muse  soil  her  robes  with  the  mud  of  the 
slums  ?  Why  should  the  music  in  her  voice  carry  the  heart-cry 
of  the  starving?  Why  should  the  fate  of  the  girl  struggling  for 
virtue  in  the  face  of  starvation,  or  the  man  striving  for  work  that 
his  loved  ones  may  not  die,  concern  her?  Is  she  not  patrician? 
Is  not  her  votive  shrine  unsullied  marble  ?  Ah,  they  tell  us  that 
when  art  descends  —  mark  the  word  —  to  the  commonplace 
details  of  life,  poetry  takes  wings.  These  champions  of  art  for 
art's  sake,  sneer  at  the  prophet  poets,  whose  trumpet  tones  arouse 
the  sleeping  conscience.  They  scorn  the  poets  of  the  people, 
who  voice  living  wrongs,  and  who  unmask  injustice  endured  by 
the  poor.  "  Sing  if  you  will,"  they  say,  "  of  the  wrongs  of  other 
ages  —  the  horrors  of  classic  Greece,  the  shame  of  ancient  Rome; 
this  is  legitimate.  But  do  not  draggle  the  stainless  robe  of 
poetry  in  the  mud  of  the  present-day  misery."  This  contention 
is  not  new.  It  is  the  old  cry  of  the  dilettante  against  the  utili 
tarian.  It  is  an  echo  of  the  vanished  past,  which  conservatism 
treasures  as  a  melody  divine.  It  is  the  cry  of  a  waning  power. 
After  the  gladiator's  brawn  came  the  supremacy  of  brain.  Now 
room  for  the  soul.  Art  must  be  rescued  from  the  bondage  of 
ages  brutalized  by  the  supremacy  of  selfishness.  As  long  as 
there  remains  a  starving  soul,  brain,  or  body,  as  long  as  there 
remains  a  tear  un dried  or  a  wrong  unrighted,  the  highest  mission 
of  poetry  and  song  will  be  in  the  domain  of  utility.  Victor 
Hugo,  the  peerless  poet  prophet  of  the  nineteenth  century,  has 


181 


182  persons,  places  an£>  fffceas. 

perhaps  better  than  any  one  else  defended  art  from  her  traducers 
in  these  thought-freighted  words  :  — 

Be  of  some  service.  Do  not  be  fastidious  when  so  much  depends  on 
being  efficient  and  good.  Art  for  art's  sake  may  be  very  line,  but  art  for 
progress  is  finer  still.  To  dream  of  castles  in  Spain  is  well;  to  dream  of 
Utopia  is  better.  Ah!  you  must  think?  Then  think  of  making  man 
better. 

But  critics  protest:  To  undertake  the  cure  of  social  evils,  to  amend 
the  codes,  to  impeach  law  in  the  court  of  right,  to  utter  those  hideous 
words,  "penitentiary,"  "convict-keeper,"  "galley-slave,"  "girl  of  the 
town" ;  to  inspect  the  police  registers,  to  conduct  the  business  of  dis 
pensaries,  to  study  the  questions  of  wages  and  want  of  work,  to  taste  the 
black  bread  of  the  poor,  to  seek  labor  for  the  working  woman,  to  con 
front  fashionable  idleness  with  ragged  sloth,  to  throw  down  the  parti 
tion  of  ignorance,  to  open  schools,  to  teach  little  ones  how  to  read;  to 
att.ick  shame,  infamy,  error,  vice,  crime,  want  of  conscience;  to  preach 
the  multiplication  of  spelling  books,  to  proclaim  the  equal  right  to  sun 
light,  to  improve  the  food  of  intellects  and  hearts,  to  give  meat  and  drink, 
to  demand  solutions  for  problems,  and  shoes  for  naked  feet, —  these  things 
are  not  the  business  of  the  azure.  Art  is  the  azure.  Yes,  art  is  the 
azure  —  but  the  azure  from  above,  whence  falls  the  ray  which  swells  the 
wheat,  yellows  the  maize,  rounds  the  apple,  gilds  the  orange,  sweetens 
the  grape.  Again,  I  say,  a  further  service  is  an  added  beauty.  At  all 
events,  where  is  the  diminution?  To  ripen  the  beet-root,  to  water  the 

}>otato,  to  increase  the  yield  of  lucern,  of  clover,  or  of  hay;  to  be  a  fel- 
ow-workman  with  the  plowman,  the  vine-dresser  and  the  gardener, — 
this  does  not  deprive  the  heavens  of  one  star.     Ah!  immensity  does  not 
despise  utility. 

Yet  people  insist  that  to  compose  social  poetry,  human  poetry,  popu 
lar  poetry,  to  grumble  against  the  evil  and  laud  the  good,  to  be  the 
spokesman  of  public  wrath,  to  insult  despots,  to  make  knaves  despair, 
to  emancipate  man  before  he  is  of  age,  to  push  souls  forward  and  dark 
ness  backward,  to  know  that  there  are  thieves  and  tyrants,  to  clean 
penal  cells,  to  flush  the  sewer  of  public  uncleanness, —  shall  Polyhymnia 
bare  her  arm  to  these  sordid  tasks?  Why  not? 

Many  of  our  poets,  especially  those  dear  to  the  hearts  of  the 
people,  have  realized  that  the  supreme  mission  of  art  was  to  be  the 
handmaid  of  justice,  progress  and  liberty.  Whittier  appreciated 
this.  His  heart  burned  with  that  ethical  fire  which  sends  light 
ning  coursing  through  the  veins  of  peaceful  people  when  occasion 
demands.  On  the  altar  of  utility  he  placed  much  of  his  noblest 
work.  Lowell  in  his  earlier  days,  before  the  plaudits  of  the 
dilettante  and  the  enervating  spell  of  conventionalism  tamed  the 
fervid  zeal  of  a  nature  naturally  in  alignment  with  the  highest 
impulses  of  justice  and  freedom,  gave  us  verses  which  will  be 
an  inspiration  for  generations  to  come.  Gerald  Massey,  perhaps 
more  than  any  other  of  the  people's  poets  of  England  which  this 
generation  has  produced,  apprehended  the  true  mission  of  song ; 
and  William  Morris,  in  his  latest  poems,  shows  that  the  dilettante 
poet  of  yesterday  has  been  touched  by  the  higher  truth.  The 
popular  poet  of  to-morrow  will  be  a  soul-awakened  man.  The  cry 
of  the  oppressed  for  justice,  the  voice  of  ignorance  pleading  for 


1Room  for  tfoe  Soul  of  flfeam  183 

light,  the  muffled  sob  of  man-made  misery,  will  be  ever  surging 
in  his  ear  ;  compelling  him  to  lay  his  soul's  best  gift  on  the  altar 
of  utility. 

The  age   of  brawn  failed  to  give  man  peace  and  happiness. 
The  age  of  intellectual  supremacy  has  likewise  failed  to  satisfy 
the  craving  of  the  human  soul.     The  next  step  will  be  into  the 
broad   domain   of  ethics,  where  justice,  freedom    and  fraternity 
will  be  taken  in  their  broadest  significance  ;  where  the  horizon 
will  not  be  limited  by  prejudice  nor  fettered  by  ancient  thought ; 
where  the  chains  of  'dogma  will  fall  from  the  shackled  mind,  and 
the  broad  spirit  of  love  will  pervade  all  society.     In  the  ushering 
in  of  this  new  order,  we  must  summon  all  that  makes  for  beauty, 
nobility   and  unfoldment,  in  art,  music  and  song.     They  must  be 
rallied  under  the  banner  of  utilitarianism.     The  highest  voicings 
of  the  soul  must  permeate  every  recess  of  the  brain  of  the  mor 
row.     The  ideal  enunciated  by  Jesus,  the   sublime  truths  which 
haunted  the  brain  of  the  ancient  Stoics  of  Greece  and  Rome,  the 
vision    which   was    ever   with    Confucius,  the    lofty    craving   of 
Gautama,  and  the  evangel  sung   by  the  noblest  singers   of  the 
nineteenth   century,  must  be  realized  —  the    soul  must  blossom 
with  the  brain.     I  repeat,  in  the  service  of  the  higher  civilization, 
now  persistently  forcing  itself  upon  the  conscience  of  millions  of 
thoughtful  people,  all  lives  imbued  with  the  thought  of  the  age, 
all  brains  made  luminous  with  love,  must  place  their  chaplets  on 
the  altar  of  utility.      The  poet  and  the  singer  must  touch  the 
heart  of  the  people.     The  orator,  the  minister  and  the  essayist 
of  the  new  time  must  sink  self,  sink  the  dogmatism  of  the  bloody 
past,  sink  the  prejudice  and  bigotry  of  the  night  of  the  ages,  and, 
facing  the  dawn  with  spirit  brave,  fearless  and  loving,  demand 
justice  for  all  men.     The  philosopher  and  the  philanthropist  must 
also  allow  their  vision  to  extend.    The  present  demands  palliative 
measures.     Do  not  despise  them,  O  philosopher ;   commend,  aid 
and  assist  all  work  for  the  amelioration  of  human  misery,  pointing 
out,  however,  that  they  are,  in  the  nature  of  things,  only  tempo 
rary.     Great  fundamental  economic   changes  must   be   brought 
about,   O  philanthropist  ;    and  the  sooner  you   realize  this,   the 
better  for  the  generation  of  to-day  and  the  generations  yet  un 
born.     You  cannot  cure  the  patient  by  palliatives.     Injustice  is 
at  the  root  of  the  disease.      Therefore,  while  pushing   forward 
thy  noble  labor  for  palliation,  strike  hands  with  the  philosopher 
in  1  his  new  crusade,  and  let   all  who  love  humanity  swell   the 
anthem  of  progress. 


august  present. 


"Life  is  a  mission."  —Mazzlni. 

"  To-day  is  a  king  in  disguise."  —Emerson. 

"  The  golden  age  is  before,  not  behind."  —  Charles  Sumner. 

"  To  live  is  to  have  justice,  truth,  reason,  devotion,  probity,  sincerity,  commoc 
sense,  right,  and  duty  welded  into  the  heart.  To  live  is  to  know^what  one  is  worth  — 
what  one  can  do,  and  should  do.  Lii'e  is  conscience."  —  Victor  Rwjo. 

The  present  is  big  with  possibilities  for  the  human  race. 
Every  man,  woman  and  child  with  convictions  can  be  real 
factors  in  the  march  of  progress.  The  opportunities 
afforded  to-day  come  only  to  those  who  live  in  transition 
eras,  in  periods  of  widespread  and  profound  unrest.  To 
those  who  desire  to  help  the  world  onward,  but  who  are 
chafing  under  the  limitations  wrhich  hedge  them  round 
about,  I  would  say:  your  opportunities  to-day  for  leaving  a 
lasting  impression  on  civilization  are  far  greater  than  those 
enjoyed  by  men  and  women  who  have  occupied  more  com 
manding  positions  in  ages  marked  by  contentment,  or  in 
periods  when  sullen  hopelessness  rankled  in  the  hearts  of 
earth's  millions.  And  this  brings  me  to  the  point  I  wish 
to  emphasize,  because  it  shows  why  no  man  or  wroman  need 
be  a  cipher  in  society  at  the  present  time. 

Nations  and  civilizations,  no  less  than  individuals,  pass 
through  great  crises  or  turning  points  in  existence,  when 
fate  holds  up  the  interrogation  point  and  cries  "Choose"; 
and  after  the  choice  has  been  made,  periods  of  comparative 
quiet  follow.  Sometimes  they  are  eras  of  contentment, 
when  the  public  mind  may  be  compared  to  the  pulsating 
ocean  lulled  into  a  profound  calm;  there  is  motion — there 
are  the  multitudinous  wavelets  and  ripples — but  as  a  whole 
the  vast  expanse  is  tranquil.  At  other  times  the  thought- 
waves  are  fatal  to  growth,  because  they  are  poisoned  with 
hate.  Millions  of  men  and  women,  having  lost  hope,  feel 
themselves  vanquished  by  running  or  power  in  a  struggle 
for  justice,  freedom  and  happiness,  and  they  naturally  s<>nd 
forth  an  atmosphere  of  sullen,  hopeless  bitterness,  while 
from  the  masterful  few  in  society  the  dominant  or  prevail 
ing  spirit  is  that  of  the  alert  conqueror  rather  than  the 
compassionate  brother.  This  condition  is  especially  unfav 
orable  to  growth  in  an  upward  direction.  There  may  be 
bloody  outbreaks,  but  they  are  the  struggles  of  brute 

184 


ITbe  Baalist  present*  iss 

pitted  against  brute,  a  contest  in  which  hate  arid  savagery 
eclipse  the  divine,  and  the  immediate  result  of  such  strug 
gles  will  always  be  appalling,  though  to  the  student  of 
history  they  will  occasion  no  surprise;  indeed  he  will  see 
that  they  have  been  rendered  inevitable  through  the  inhu 
manity  and  brutality  of  man. 

In  contrast  with  these  periods  of  contentment  and  night 
mares  of  hatp,  there  are  the  epochs  of  light  and  growth- 
supreme  moments,  which  accomplish  for  humanity  more 
during  the  space  of  a  generation  than  is  achieved  in  cen 
turies  when  the  brain  of  man  is  dormant,  or  when  he  lives 
in  an  atmosphere  of  despair.  These  epochs  of  unrest, 
though  they  be  accompanied  by  the  pangs  of  labor,  are  the 
birthdays  of  progress;  they  lift  man  from  a  lower  to  a 
higher  state;  they  unfold  to  him  a  broader  horizon  than  he 
has  hitherto  conceived  to  be  possible.  Such  periods  are  at 
once  the  inspiration  and  the  hope  of  civilization. 

One  of  the  most  striking  illustrations  of  a  luminous  age 
in  the  annals  of  a  single  people  is  afforded  by  the  history 
of  Greece  from  500  to  400  B.  C.  This  century  witnessed  the 
declining  years  of  Pythagoras  and  the  opening  manhood  of 
Plato.  It  was  also  made  immortal  by  ^Eschylus — the 
Shakespere  of  Greece — Sophocles  and  Euripides;  Herodo 
tus,  the  father  of  history;  Thucydides,  the  Athenian  histo 
rian;  Xenophon,  the  soldier  and  historian;  Hippocrates, 
the  father  of  medicine;  Pericles,  the  statesman  and  patron 
of  learning  and  art;  Pheidias,  the  greatest  of  all  sculptors; 
and  Socrates. 

In  the  annals  of  our  civilization  the  first  century  of  what 
historians  term  modern  times,  or  the  Renaissance,  furnishes 
another  example  of  an  epoch  of  unrest,  or  an  age  of  the 
interrogation  point.  Here  we  seen  an  awakening  extending 
over  many  nations  and  reflecting  the  mental  and  ethical 
conditions  of  more  than  one  stage  of  growth,  as  wrell  as  the 
social  and  national  characteristics  of  various  peoples.  This 
was  the  most  marked  awakening  known  to  western  civiliza 
tion.  It  was  an  era  in  which  the  past  and  present  were 
challenged,  and  the  future  critically  interrogated.  It  was 
a  time  of  unrest  and  of  growth,  and  responding  to  the  exhil 
arating  but  disturbing  thought-waves  which  surged  over 
western  Europe,  we  find  Savonarola,  Erasmus,  Luther, 
Zwingli,  Calvin,  Melanchthon,  Latimer  and  Knox  calling 
the  church  to  judgment.  Rabelais  employs  the  shafts  of 
merciless  satire  against  hypocrisy.  Sir  Thomas  More 
reveals  the  essential  brutality,  injustice  and  absurdity  of 
political  and  social  conditions,  by  contrasting  the  civiliza- 


186  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

tion  of  his  time  with  his  Utopian  commonwealth.  Angelo, 
Raphael,  Da  Vinci,  Correggio,  Titian,  and  their  companions 
in  the  field  of  art,  made  the  stiff,  narrow  and  wooden  paint 
ings  of  the  Dark  Ages  appear  harsh  and  erode  in  the  pres 
ence  of  truer  and  freer  expressions  of  genius  untrammelled. 
Copernicus  interrogated  the  heavens;  Columbus  discovered 
the  New  World;  Vasco  de  Gama  reached  the  Indies  by  way 
of  Cape  of  Good  Hope;  Magellan's  ships  circumnavigated 
the  globe. 

The  press  which  Gutenberg  invented  a  few  years  prior 
to  the  opening  of  this  century  aided  marvellously  in  stimu 
lating  the  public  mind,  which  had  been  already  profoundly 
stirred.  Colet,  in  founding  the  St.  Paul's  Latin  Grammar 
School,  laid  the  foundation  for  humane  and  rational  popular 
education.  Caxton's  press,  which  began  printing  books  in 
the  last  quarter  of  the  fifteenth  century,  greatly  aided  the 
general  intellectual  awakening  in  England.  And  through 
out  Italy,  Germany,  England,  France  and  the  Spanish 
Peninsula,  humanity  felt  the  profound  agitation  which 
beat  upon  the  brain  of  the  age  in  so  marked  a  way  that 
positive  and  clearly  defined  revolutions  in  religion,  art, 
science,  commerce  and  politics  followed.  It  was  a  civili 
zation-wide  awakening,  as  much  grander,  broader  and 
more  far-reaching  than  the  quickening  of  brain,  heart  and 
soul  in  the  Periclean  Age  as  a  family  or  group  of  nations  is 
greater  than  one  nation. 

At  the  present  time  we  are  in  the  midst  of  a  many-sided 
revolution  as  much  more  far-reaching  in  influence  and 
greater  in  possibilities  than  the  Renaissance  as  was  that 
period  greater  than  the  golden  age  of  Greece.  For  the 
restless  spirit  of  growth  and  inquiry  which  permeates  the 
thought  of  our  age  is  not  only  found  in  every  field  of 
research,  but  is  world-wide  in  its  extent.  The  telegraph 
and  cable  have  threaded  the  nations  of  earth  together  as 
beads  on  a  single  strand,  and  the  utilization  of  steam  has 
brought  remote  lands  within  easy  distance  of  one  another. 
The  revolution  in  philosophical  theories  occasioned  by  the 
wider  knowledge  resulting  from  the  interchange  of  the  intel 
lectual  concepts  of  nation  with  nation,  race  with  race,  and 
civilization  with  civilization,  is  only  equalled  by  the  far- 
reaching  influence1  which  the  marvelous  revelations  in 
psychical  science  are  exerling.  The  revolution  in 
religious  thought  occasioned  by  modern  critical  methods, 
the  discoveries  of  discrepancies  in  the  various  ancient  manu 
scripts  and  the  new  truths  revealed  by  archaeological 
research,  is  only  eclipsed  by  the  profound  agitation  and 


ZTbe  august  present,  187 

change  going  on  throughout  Europe,  America  and  Austra 
lia  in  regard  to  social  and  political  economics  and  educa 
tional  theories. 

These  are  some  of  the  phenomena  which  make  the  present 
the  most  august  moment  in  the  history  of  civilization,  and 
it  would  seem  as  though  destiny  was  shaping  things  so  that 
all  nations  in  the  world  which  make  any  pretence  to  civili 
zation,  should  come  under  the  influence  of  this  world-wide 
mental  quickening.  Suppose  that  in  1893  someone  had  pre 
dicted  that  within  two  years  China  would  be  compelled  to 
throw  open  her  ports  to  civilization  and  give  audience  to 
modern  progress,  and,  furthermore,  that  the  great  empire 
would  be  brought  to  these  momentous  concessions  by  the 
little  island  nation  of  Japan.  Men  would  have  ridiculed 
the  idea,  if  they  did  not  regard  it  as  too  wild  for  even  con 
temptuous  notice.  All  things  point  to  the  fact  frequently 
predicted  by  thoughtful  philosophers  of  the  Orient  that  the 
closing  years  of  this  century  will  be  a  grand  climacteric 
period  in  the  history  of  the  world.  It  is  in  a  very  special 
sense  a  den/  of  judgment ;  for,  while  all  days  are  judgment 
days  in  that  whenever  a  new  truth  comes  to  man  it  calls  him 
to  pass  upon  it,  and  his  passing  is  in  a  way  his  own  sentence, 
yet  the  period  upon  which  wre  are  now  entering  is  a  culmina 
ting  moment  of  world-wide  proportion. 

If  we  take  the  story  of  the  journey  ings  of  Israel  from 
Egypt  to  Canaan  as  a  marvellous  allegory  of  the  progress 
of  humanity,  we  may  compare  mankind  at  the  present 
moment  to  the  Children  of  Israel  wrhen  they  had  reached 
the  boundary  of  Canaan  and  were  listening  to  the  report  of 
the  spies  sent  to  view  the  land.  It  is  an  hour  of  readjust 
ment,  and  of  marvellous  possibilities  for  the  race,  if  reason, 
justice  and  love  can  be  made  to  conquer  prejudice,  selfism 
and  savagery.  But  it  is  for  the  individuals,  the  nations, 
the  civilizations  and  the  races  to  determine  whether  they 
will  enter  the  higher  estate  where  truth  shall  hold  regal 
sway  over  the  mind,  where  altruism  shall  dominate  the 
heart,  and  love  shall  slay  hate,  or  whether,  like  Israel, 
earth's  children  shall  turn  back  into  the  desert  to  wander 
and  to  wait  for  weary  generations  until  the  lessons  which 
we  have  so  often  blindly  refused  to  learn  are  through 
repeated  and  bitter  experience  burned  into  the  soul  of  a 
wiser  posterity.  r 

The  tremendous  issues  which  hang  upon  the  choice  of  this 
supreme  hour  should  prove  sufficient  to  fire  every  man  and 
woman  of  conviction,  and  lead  to  a  great  renunciation — a 
renunciation  of  the  love  of  self,  and  dedication  of  brain, 


188  persons,  places  anfc  flfceas. 

heart  and  hand  to  humanity's  need.  But  there  is  another 
reason  why  the  present  speaks  in  urgent  tones  to  every  soul. 
The  possibilities  for  influencing  the  lives  of  others  were 
never  greater,  if  indeed  they  were  ever  so  great  as  to-day, 
because  the  public  mind  is  in  an  attitude  of  expectancy,  for 
at  every  crucial  moment  like  the  present  the  thought-waves 
of  the  nations,  civilizations,  and  peoples  who  come  under 
the  spell  of  noble  discontent  surge  to  and  fro  much  as  do 
the  might}7  billows  of  a  sea  when  profoundly  moved  by  a 
great  tempest. 

The  present  is  august  because  the  spirit  of  God  is  moring 
on  the  waters  of  thought,  and  the  coming  and  going  of  the 
turbulent  leaves  lash  into  life  or  consciousness  all  but  the 
most  dormant  and  self -paralyzed  brains-  At  such  periods  the 
brain  of  man  becomes  abnormally  sensitive;  it  is  as  the  pre 
pared  plate  of  the  camera,  ready  to  catch  and  hold  a  domi 
nant  idea,  an  all-mastering  ideal,  a  life-controlling  thought; 
or,  to  change  the  figure,  the  public  mind  resembles  the  iron 
at  white  heat  ready  to  be  shaped  into  sledge  hammers  to 
break  the  shackles  of  bondage,  or  to  be  forged  into  links 
which  may  enslave. 

To  every  one — I  care  not  how  humble  may  be  his  station, 
I  care  not  where  or  what  his  position — to  every  one  strong- 
enough  to  do  right,  is  given  at  this  splendid  moment  the 
opportunity  to  awaken  and  influence  some  soul  or  souls  to 
come  into  the  light.  To  those  who  live  in  hamlets,  villages 
and  towns,  or  whose  lives  may  seem  very  circumscribed, 
I  would  say:  What  you  lack  in  station  or  scope  is  more 
than  made  up  by  the  opportunities  which  the  present  affords 
to  throw  a  vital  thought  or  a  divine  ideal  into  the  minds  of 
those  around  you;  to  impress  a  young  life,  or  to  lead  a 
thoughtless  brain  into  the  light. 

Remember,  moreover,  that  the  peculiar  mental  attitude 
of  humanity  to-day  is  not  proof  against  old-time  prejudice 
or  the  subtle  poison  of  ancient  ideals.  Humanity  is  rising, 
but  wre  must  not  forget  that  man  is  linked  by  a  thousand 
ties  to  the  lower  life  from  which  he  has  so  slowly  risen  and 
which  still  holds  so  strong  a  sway  over  the  mind  of  millions. 
We  are  not  so  far  from  the  lower  animals,  not  so  far  from  a 
state  of  barbarism,  that  we  are  proof  against  animalism  or 
savagery;  it  is  not  safe  for  men  to  see  blood.  And  this 
suggests  something  which  illustrates  the  point  I  wish  to 
emphasize  touching  the  dangers  which  threaten  civilization 
from  the  presence  of  strong  prejudices  or  passions,  and  the 
influence  of  ancient  ideals  on  the  mind  at  a  moment  of 
expectancy  and  unrest  like  the  present. 


august  present*  189 

There  never  seemed  a  more  hopeful  moment  for  the  civili 
zation  of  western  Europe  than  that  presented  during  the 
heyday  of  the  new  learning,  when  such  men  as  Sir  Thomas 
More,  Eramus,  Colet  and  their  co-laborers  were  scattering 
abroad  among  thinking  men  and  women  the  noble  dream 
of  a  puritied  church  and  a  redeemed  society;  when  justice 
and  toleration  were  being  preached,  and  when  the  strong 
moral  protests  of  Savonarola,  Luther,  Zwingli  and  Melanch- 
thon  wrere  awaking  the  moral  energies  of  man ;  while  Coper 
nicus  was  broadening  the  conceptions  of  humanity  in  regard 
to  the  heavens,  and  while  art,  science  and  a  higher  concep 
tion  of  education  than  man  had  heretofore  entertained 
were  taking  on  marvellous  proportions. 

And  yet  while  this  glad  prophetic  song  of  the  dawn  was 
still  young,  when  the  mind  of  man  was  tense  and  ready  to 
receive  and  act  on  any  powerful  or  dominant  thought  or 
ideal,  which  should  be  pressed  home  with  intensity  and  per 
sistency,  the  prejudice,  dogmatism  and  bigotry  of  conserva 
tism,  and  the  savagery  latent  in  the  heart  of  man  were  sud 
denly  aroused  and  stirred  into  aggressive  activity  by  the 
upholders  of  ancient  thought,  and  the  Spanish  Inquisition 
marked  the  opening  of  a  night-time  for  civilization,  as  terri 
ble  as  the  promises  of  dawn  had  been  glorious.  Spain 
answered  the  momentous  question  of  this  hour  of  judgment 
in  no  uncertain  tones.  She  chose,  and  her  choice  was 
marked  by  persecution  and  slaughter  which  still  sickens  the 
heart  of  man.  The  spirit  of  a  savage  past  dominated,  and 
in  the  midst  of  her  power,  glory,  pride  and  prosperity,  she 
fell,  prostrate  and  paralyzed,  by  virtue  of  her  choice  of 
death  instead  of  life,  progress  and  unequalled  glory. 

The  sight  and  smell  of  human  blood  is  always  dangerous 
as  is  the  arousing  of  the  savage  in  man.  Other  nations  were 
not  slow  to  imitate  in  a  milder  degree  -the  merciless  perse 
cutions  of  Spain,  and  it  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  in  propor 
tion  as  they  turned  from  the  light  of  tolerance  and  free 
thought,  and  disregarded  the  principle  of  the  golden  rule, 
these  nations  suffered.  The  inspiration  given  by  the  light 
which  came  into  the  hearts  of  men  during  the  time  known 
as  the  Renaissance,  the  time  of  the  new  learning,  and  the 
morning  of  the  Reformation,  gave  to  western  civilization  a 
powerful  impetus  toward  the  day,  and  the  number  of  indi 
viduals  who  chose  the  light  was  at  this  time  so  large  that 
civilization  went  forward,  slowly  and  lamely,  it  is  true,  but 
her  movement  was  onward  and  upward.  This  illustration 
from  the  history  of  the  most  marked  of  the  great  awaken 
ings  of  our  western  civilization  is  especially  worthy  of  con- 


190  persons,  places  anb  fffceas. 

sideration  at  the  present  time,  inasmuch  as  the  spirit  of 
religious  intolerance  and  unreasoning  prejudice  is  already 
being  manifested  throughout  the  Christian  world. 

Another  ominous  shadow  creeping  across  the  sky  of 
civilization,  which  at  the  present  time  is  so  laden  with 
promises  of  triumph  and  progress,  calls  for  attention,  for  it 
is  a  grave  menace  to  all  that  is  finest  and  best  in  the  dawn 
of  to-day.  I  refer  to  the  general  fostering  of  the  military 
spirit  in  young  and  old,  and  the  astounding  attempt  on  the 
part  of  certain  literary  journals  and  publishing  houses  of 
the  Old  World  and  the  New  to  create  an  interest  and 
admiration  for  Napoleon — one  of  the  most  perfect 
manifestations  of  an  incarnate  demon  of  conscience 
less  ambition  and  destructive  war  afforded  by  the 
annals  of  the  ages.  In  mam7  cases  this  despoiler 
of  nations  and  arch  butcherer  of  mankind  has 
been  idealized  and  rendered  a  hero.  In  other  instances, 
while  the  portrayal  has  been  more  impartial,  the  glamour  of 
\var  and  victory  has  been  so  thrown  over  the  pages  which 
describe  the  life  of  this  colossal  failure,  this  scourge  of  the 
race,  that  the  effect  upon  the  expectant  public  mind  at  the 
present  time  cannot  be  other  than  most  unfortunate;  espe 
cially  since  the  church,  which  claims  to  be  the  home  of  the 
Prince  of  Peace,  is  at  the  same  time  displaying  unprece 
dented  activity  in  instructing  her  young  in  military  drill  and 
the  manual  of  arms,  thereby  associating  with  religious 
ideals  the  images  of  war  and  visions  of  soldier  life  in  the 
youthful  mind. 

This  military  craze  rampant  in  governmental,  educa 
tional  and  religious  circles,  and  this  attempt  to  rivet  the 
attention  of  the  tense  mind  upon  the  master  murderer  and 
tyrant  of  the  past  is  the  most  ominous  spectre  -which 
darkens  the  sky  of  our  present  civilization,  and  it  is  sadden 
ing  and  discouraging  when  we  remember  that  arbitration, 
or  the  settlement  of  national  and  international  disputes 
rationally,  has  recently  proved  so  successful  that  many  of 
the  finest  minds  of  our  century  believed  that  Christian 
civilization  had  at  last  risen  above  the  level  of  the  savage 
brute,  and  that  instead  of  wanton  murder  and  the  measure 
less  waste,  desolation  and  destruction  of  war,  we  should 
hereafter  see  all  disputes  and  misunderstandings  settled 
reasonably  and  justly  by  an  impartial  court  of  intelligent 
human  beings.  Believing  that  man  had  reached  a  point  in 
his  slow  ascent  where  he  might  begin  to  lay  claim  to  being 
a  rational  creature,  Victor  Hugo  thus  characterizes  the 
vision  of  the  incoming  dav: 


Ube  Bugust  present,  191 

"The  diminution  of  men  of  war,  of  violence,  of  prey,  the 
indefinite  and  superb  expansion  of  men  of  thought  and 
peace;  the  entrance  of  the  real  heroes  upon  the  scene  of 
action;  this  is  one  of  the  greatest  facts  of  our  era.  There 
is  no  more  sublime  spectacle — mankind's  deliverance  from 
above;  the  potentates  put  to  flight  by  the  dreamers;  the 
prophet  crushing  the  hero;  the  sweeping  away  of  violence 
by  thought.  Lift  up  your  eyes;  the  supreme  drama  is  enact 
ing!  The  legions  of  light  are  in  full  possession  of  the  sword 
of  flame.  The  masters  are  going  and  the  liberators  are  com 
ing  in." 

And  this  splendid  spectacle  is  not  only  practicable  and 
feasible,  but  is  inevitable,  if  the  public  mind  be  educated 
along  higher  lines  than  those  of  wholesale  homicide.  This 
lofty  conception  is  no  impracticable  dream;  it  merely 
pictures  the  state  to  which  man  must  and  will  come,  as 
surely  as  he  rose  from  cannibalism  to  his  present  stage  of 
development.  It  reveals  the  next  step  for  enlightened 
humanity,  and  a  step  which  might  be  taken  to-day,  if  it 
were  not  for  the  reawrakening  of  the  savage  in  man,  which 
is  being  industriously  fostered  by  church,  school,  popular 
literature  and  the  state,  at  the  present  intellectual  crisis. 
To-day  the  youth  of  Europe  and  America  are  having  their 
imagination  focused  upon  an  idealized  warrior  wrho  repre 
sented  the  cruel,  savage  and  selfish  side  of  man  as  has  no 
other  character  in  modern  history.  And  it  is  the  ideals  and 
thought-images  which  color  life  and  give  bent  to  character. 
Professor  Drummond  observes  that  "The  supreme  factor  of 
development  is  environment.  A  child  does  not  grow  out 
of  a  child  by  spontaneous  unfolding;  the  process  is  fed  from 
without." 

We  do  not  see  the  plant  assimilate  the  elements  of  air 
and  earth.  We  cannot  look  into  the  laboratory  of  the  rose 
and  behold  the  reaching  out  of  the  plant  to  the  sun  and  air 
for  those  subtle  elements  necessary  in  order  that  it  may  pro 
duce  that  miracle  of  color  and  perfume  which  in  time 
delights  our  senses.  We  know  that  in  some  mysterious 
way  the  sunshine,  the  rain  and  the  earth  give  to  the 
miracle-worker  that  which  is  essential  to  produce  the  rose. 
So,  we  do  not  see  exactly  how  the  thought-seeds  thrown  into 
the  garden  of  the  imagination,  the  ideal  held  before  the 
retina  of  the  mind,  the  harmony  or  discord  which  the  child- 
brain  encounters  during  the  formative  period,  give  color 
and  expression  to  life;  but  we  know  that  these  subtle  influ 
ences  are  destiny-shaping  in  their  effect.  And  as  before 
observed,  this  is  especially  true  in  periods  like  the  present 


192  persons,  places  an& 

when  the  public  mind  is  tense,  when  the  imagination  is 
stimulated  and  receptive;  when,  in  a  word,  the  civilization 
reaches  the  edge  of  a  new  Canaan,  and  the  question  is  put 
whither  humanity  shall  move — forward,  to  encounter 
unknowrn  danger  on  the  road  to  progress,  or  back  into  the 
wilderness  of  the  known  to  feed  afresh  upon  the  ideals  and 
old-time  thoughts,  which,  though  they  were  an  inspiration 
in  an  earlier  age,  can  no  longer  satisfy  or  sustain  the  best 
in  man. 

The  slothful,  the  fearful,  the  worshipper  of  the  past,  and 
those  who  love  ease  and  self-comfort,  no  less  than  those  who 
are  so  low7  on  the  plane  of  development  that  they  have  more 
confidence  in  brute  methods  than  in  reason  and  the  divine 
impulse  are  striving  in  a  thousand  ways  to  turn  humanity 
backward;  like  the  ten  spies  who  brought  an  evil  report  of 
Canaan  to  the  children  of  Israel,  these  voices  seek  to  turn 
humanity  backward  by  appealing  to  prejudice,  superstition, 
fear,  the  love  of  ease  and  the  savagery  resident  in  the  hu 
man  heart.  They  are  seeking  to  outlaw  daring  science  and 
investigation; to  replace  the  spirit  of  tolerance,charity, intel 
lectual  hospitality  and  ethical  religion  writh  the  savage  dog 
matic  faith  of  darker  days.  They  are  fanning  the  spirit  of 
hate  between  religious  factions;  they  are  cultivating  tke 
war  spirit,  and  turning  the  contemplation  of  the  young 
from  the  noble  ideals  of  a  Victor  Hugo  to  the  bloody  tri 
umphs  of  a  Napoleon.  They  are  endeavoring  to  raise 
authority  above  justice  and  to  discourage  man's  faith  in  a 
nobler  to-morrow.  They  sneer  at  the  efforts  of  philoso 
phers  and  reformers  to  substitute  justice  for  injustice.  In 
a  word,  they  are  striving  to  turn  civilization  backward  at 
the  moment  when  strong  and  clear  the  order  to  march  for 
ward  should  be  given. 

If  we  hearken  to  these  voices  of  the  night,  wre  assist  in 
the  commission  of  a  mistake  of  measureless  proportions,  a 
mistake  which  must  necessarily  result  in  clouding  the  face 
of  civilization  for  generations  to  come  by  checking  the 
rapid  march  of  progress;  if  we  remain. neutral,  refusing  to 
bear  arms  in  the  stupendous  battle  now  in  progress,  we  are 
recreant  to  the  urgent  duty  which  confronts  us,  and  by  so 
doing  neglect  the  splendid  opportunities  given  to  us  to  be 
torch-bearers  of  progress  in  the  most  critical  moment  in  the 
history  of  civilization. 

If  prejudice,  selfism  and  ancient  thought  triumph  over 
knowledge,  altruism  and  justice  in  the  present  crisis, 
humanity  will  have  another  long  night  before  her,  another 
forty  years  in  the  wilderness. 


ZTbe  Hugust  present  193 

He  who  at  this  moment  realizes  that  his  duty  and  respon 
sibility  are  commensurate  with  his  opportunity  will  rise  to 
the  august  demands  of  the  hour,  becoming  a  greater  force 
than  he  dreams  possible,  if,  realizing  his  own  limitations, 
he  loses  sight  of  the  tremendous  fact  that  the  time  and 
environment  of  the  present  give  him  a  potential  power  not 
given  his  fathers.  We  cannot  do  better  than  ponder  on 
these  words  of  Hugo,  when  with  prophet  voice  he  spoke  a 
living  truth  for  each  awakened  soul  to  make  his  own: 

"The  human  caravan  has  reached  a  high  plateau,  and  the 
horizon  being  vaster,  art  has  more  to  do.  To  every  widen 
ing  of  the  horizon  an  enlargement  of  conscience  corres 
ponds.  We  have  not  reached  the  goal — concord  -con 
densed  into  felicity,  civilization  summed  up  in  harmony— 
that  is  far  off." 


Three  Works  by  B.  0.  FLOWER,  with  Critical  Press  Opinion. 


GERALD  MASSEY:  Poet,  Prophet  and  Mystic. 


A  study 

Boston,  Mass. 

Daily  Advertiser. 

Dailv  Traveler. 


Boston  Ideas. 


Cincinnati,  O. 


Daily  Commer 
cial  Gazette. 


Chicago,  111. 


Daily 
Inter-Ocean. 


NewYork,N.Y. 

New  York  World. 


of  the  life  and  thought  of  England's  Poet  of  the  People. 

ILLUSTRATED   BY   LAURA   LEE. 

Price,  extra  cloth,  $1.00. 
Golden  Opinions  from  Leading  Critical  Journals. 

A  SCHOLARLY  WORK  REVEALING  THE  INNER  LlFE  OF  THE  POET.     Mr.    B.  O.  Flower's 

latest  work  is  a  scholarly  discussion  of  the  life  and  work  of  Massey,  poet,  prophet  and 
I  mystic.  One  of  the  feature  chapters  is  that  in  which  the  author  traces  the  points  of  re 
semblance  between  Massey  and  Whittier.  There  are  frequent  quotations  from  the  poet, 
but  they  are  none  too  frequent,  since  they  reveal  to  us  the  inner  life  of  the  man. — Daily 
Advertiser,  Boston  Mass. 

FINEST  PRESENTATION  OF  THE  POET'S  CHARACTER  WHICH  HAS  APPEARED  IN  THE 
NEW  WORLD.  A  most  appreciative  and  tender  tribute  to  one  of  England's  lesser  but 
noble  song  writers.  No  such  presentation  of  the  poet's  character  and  work  has  yet  been 
seen  on  this  side  the  water. — Daily  Traveler,  Boston. 

A  VOLUME  WHICH  WILL  FIND  A  HIGH  NICHE  AMONG  THE  ELECT.      Mr.   B.  O.  Flower's 

appreciation  of  the  beauty  and  strength  of  Gerald  Massey's  nature  and  work  is  so  enthu 
siastic  yet  so  spiritually  true-tempered  that  he  is  better  qualified  than  almost  any  one  to 
deal  with  the  subject  as  he  has  in  his  latest  book  :  "  Gerald  Massey :  Poet,  Prophet  and 
Mystic."  So  true  a  soul  as  Mr.  Massey's  deserves  just  such  direct  and  sympathetic 
treatment  as  that  here  given  by  Mr.  Flower,  and  it  is  a  delight,  as  well  as  inspiration  and 
benefit,  to  contemplate  the  picture  of  his  life  as  drawn  by  Mr.  Flower  from  Mr.  Massey's 
own  words  and  writings,  conducted  and  interspersed  with  comments,  facts  and  explana 
tions  from  Mr.  Flower's  pen.  It  is  an  uncommonly  expressive  delineation,  and  done 
with  a  fidelity  of  color  which  keenly  tells  in  the  impressions  conveyed  to  the  reader's 
mind. 

Mr.  Massey  has  received  appreciation  from  high  sources  for  his  masterly  poetic  power, 
but  Mr.  Flower's  book  aims  chiefly  at  bringing  forth  before  the  public  the  man's  charac 
ter  as  a  power  among  the  modern  reform  elements  which  rank  in  the  lists  of  the  broadly 
fearless  and  true.  Mr.  Flower  handles  the  subject  admirably,  and  we  thus  gain  the  full 
force  of  the  exquisite  beauty,  the  invincible  strength  and  the  lofty  truth  of  Mr.  Massey's 
clear  vision  and  straightforward  expressiveness.  This  volume  will  find  a  high  niche  among 
the  elect.  It  is  handsomely  and  expensively  printed. — Boston  Ideas. 

A  WORK  AT  ONCE  BEAUTIFUL  IN  COMPOSITION  AND  FAULTLESS  IN  MECHANICAL  EXE 
CUTION.  "Gerald  Massey:  Poet,  Prophet  and  Mystic,"  is  the  title  Mr.  B.  O.  Flower 
gives  to  a  beautiful  discussion  of  the  life  work  of  "  One  of  England's  Poets  of  the  People." 
The  volume  in  its  mechanical  execution  is  a  work  of  art.  .  .  .  The  author  illustrates 
the  three  phases  of  Massey's  mental  and  moral  nature,  as  poet,  prophet  and  mystic.  It 
is  a  charming  book,  written  in  a  sympathetic  spirit,  in  which  the  subject  is  appropriately 
called  upon  to  reveal  his  own  character  by  his  poems.  It  contains  several  elegant  illus 
trations  by  Laura  Lee. — Commercial  Gazette,  Cincinnati,  O. 

A     HANDSOME   VOLUME     DEALING    WITH     AN     INTERESTING    SUBJECT.       A     handsome 

volume,  both  in  print  and  illustrations,  which  presents  briefly,  but  pointedly  the  life  and 
work  of  Gerald  Massey.  Our  author  finds  a  striking  resemblance  between  Massey  and 
our  own  loved  Quaker  poet,  Whittier.  Both  were  tireless  reformers,  "  passionately  in 
love  with  the  beauty  in  common  life."  Both  hated  injustice  with  all  their  powers  of 
mind,  with  prophetic  and  intuitive  insight  as  to  coming  events.  They  both  "  revealed 
beauties  within  and  without  the  homes  of  the  humble,"  and  were  fearless  in  denunciation 
of  wrong  doing.  The  work  is  handsomely  illustrated,  but  the  text  alone  makes  it  an 
interesting  and  even  charming  book.  Mr.  Flower  makes  free  quotations  from  the  gems 
of  many  of  Massey's  inspiring  songs,  and  brings  out  admirably  the  leading  traits  of 
character  that  shaped  his  life  and  inspired  his  writing. — Daily  Inter-Ocean,  Chicago. 

Gerald  Massey  will  be  better  known  to  the  English-speaking  people  fifty  years  from 
now  than  he  is  to-day.  His  genius  is  only  just  beginning  to  be  recognized,  and  Mr.  B. 
O.  Flower  has  done  the  world  a  service  in  his  critical  monograph,  "  Gerald  Massey:  Poet 
Prophet  and  Mystic."  It  is  a  tribute  from  the  heart  to  a  true  prophet  of  freedom,  frater 
nity  and  justice,  ever  loyal  to  the  interest  of  the  oppressed. — New  York  World. 


The  abo*e  are  a  few  of  the  many  appreciative  criticisms  which  have  greeted  Mr.  Flower's  latest  volume.  This 
work  is  one  that  is  needed  at  the  present  time,  as  it  makes  a  powerful  plea  for  justice,  while  it  presents  the  story  of 
Massey's  life  and  the  ideas  which  have  dominated  his  brain.  In  mechanical  execution  this  work  which  is  printed 
in  black  and  red,  on  heavy  antique  paper,  illustrated  with  a  few  choice  pictures,  drawn  by  Miss  Laura  Lee,  the 
talented  Boston  artist,  is  one  of  the  finest  examples  of  the  modern  revival  of  fine  book-making.  It  is  bound  in 
ornamental  cloth,  stamped  in  gold,  and  is  a  model  of  beauty  as  well  as  a  volume  of  excellence. 

It  makes  a  charming  presentation  volume. 

ARENA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  Copley  Square,  Boston. 


np|_  _      XT^m 
1  06     INCW 


New  York. 


Herald. 


St.  Louis,  Mo. 


Christian 
Evangelist. 


A  Plea  for  tne  Union  of  the  Moral   Forces 
for  Practical  Progress. 

Extra  cloth,  $1.00  ;    paper,  50  cents. 
A  worthy  companion  to  "Civilization's  Inferno."     Constructive  in  character  and  abounding 

in  helpful  suggestions. 

Current  opinion  of  leading  American  journals. 

It  is  a  fervent  plea  for  the  union  and  practical  co-operation  of  all  those  who  are 
interested  in  the  welfare  of  humanity,  and  who  believe  that  it  is  their  duty  to  do  their 
utmost  toward  alleviating  the  sufferings  of  their  less  fortunate  fellow  mortals.  Mr.  Flower 
is  a  firm  believer  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  spirit  of  fraternity  and  justice,  and  in  this 
little  book  he  suggests  how  this  spirit  may  be  fostered  throughout  the  United  States. 
There  are  many  loving  souls,  he  claims,  in  every  city,  town  and  village,  who  would  fain 
spend  most  of  their  lives  in  aiding  their  fellows,  and  he  maintains  that  a  wondrous 
amount  of  good  would  be  the  result  if  only  these  scattered  children  of  light  could  be 
properly  organized.  Undoubtedly  he  is  right,  and  it  would  not  surprise  us  if  this  idea 
took  root.  We  may  not  all  possess  Mr.  Flower's  enthusiasm,  but  we  must  all  admire  the 
eloquence  with  which  he  pictures  the  "  new  time  "  for  which  he  yearns,  the  time  when  all 
men  will  be  brothers  and  justice  will  rule  the  earth.  —  New  York  Her-&ld. 

The  inspiration  of  a  new  social  order  seems  to  have  suddenly  assumed  the  proportions 
of  a  contagion.  Prophets  are  springing  up  all  over  the  land,  aud  new  books  from  every 
quarter  of  the  globe.  The  real  import  of  God's  love  for  the  world  seems  to  be  dawning 
upon  the  mind  of  thinkers  for  the  first  time  in  social  history,  and  reformers  are  just 
beginning  to  catch  the  inspiration  of  the  Christ-life.  These  books  are  by  no  means 
accordant  as  yet,  but  they  are  sufficiently  harmonious  in  design  to  impress  the  student 
with  the  fact  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  about  to  begin  on  earth.  Almost  all  modern 
writers  on  social  conditions  are  so  imbued  with  the  altruistic  spirit  that  altruism  seems  to 
be  the  "  Elias"  of  the  new  era. 

So  prominent  indeed  is  this  spirit  in  the  above  work  that  one  almost  feels  that  its 
author  is  the  John  the  Baptist  of  the  time  about  which  he  prophesies,  and  that  he  should 
at  once  demand  baptism  at  his  hands  —  that  is,  a  baptism  of  his  spirit.  We  cannot  have 
too  many  such  books  as  this  at  this  time.  It  was  not  written  for  the  sake  of  the  book  nor 
its  author,  but  of  humanity.  It  is  a  plain  yet  earnest  and  vigorous  presentation  of  some 
of  our  social  conditions,  with  suggestions,  not  a  few  of  which  are  entirely  practical  and 
full  of  promise.  It  has  little  of  the  visionary  and  speculative  in  it  and  proposes  imme 
diate  action  upon  practical  grounds  for  the  purpose  of  the  earliest  possible  relief  an 
solution  of  our  troubles.—  Christian  Evangelist,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

It  has  a  pertinence  and  value  for  all  who  have  read  and  thought  about  the  social  prob 
lems  of  our  day;  and  the  information  which  the  author  puts  into  such  a  moderate  com 
pass  will  also  serve  admirably  to  interest  many  in  social  literature  who  have  been 
deterred  by  rumor  from  touching  these  "fantastic  theories."  "It  is  facts,  facts,  facts, 
which  '  The  New  Time  '  marshals  before  the  reader,  —  facts  of  the  everyday,  common 
place,  humdrum  life  about  us."  The  reader  will  find  in  this  book  much  food  for  solid, 
hard  thinking.  Here  are  put  into  a  small  compass  a  body  of  concrete  remedial  measures 
for  an  immediate  and  practical  organization  of  social  reform  agencies.  It  shows  hov» 
existing  evils  can  be  modified,  and  gives  the  trend  of  contemporary,  social  thought  and 
its  evolutionary  process  toward  its  ultimate  goal  of  the  highest  social  good.  —  Boston  Home 
Journal,  Boston,  Mass. 

Like  whatever  Mr.  Flower  writes,  the  book  has  to  do  with  &  practical,  immedia 
means,  of  helping  humanity  in  the  throes  of  its  upward  struggle.  Humanity  as  a  mass, 
course  contains  the  leavening  lump  of  spirituality  which  will  ultimately  express  itself  as 
matter  of  course  in  the  very  reforms  we  so  much  desire.  Equally  of  course  do  the  coi 
sciously-spiritual  workers  assist  in  this  process  —  this  forms  one  of  the  pleasures  as  wt 
as  duties  of  the  enlightened  state. 

In  such  a  cause  we  know  of  no  one  who  does  more  valiant  work  than  Mr.   Flowe 
Convinced  of  its  "  righteousness,"  he  will  pursue  it  to  its  ultimate  personally,  and  arou 
in  hosts  of  others  both  desire  and  determination  to  do  likewise.     Such  work  is  of  ines 
mable  value  —  and  in  this  connection  everyone  should  realize  that  every  person  is  helpin. 
his  fellow  if  he  but  live  on  the  highest  plane  of  which  he  is  conscious,  also  striving  COD 
stantly  to  get  still  higher  by  helping  to  raise  others.  —  Boston  Ideas,  Boston,  Mass. 

Mr.  Flower  takes  his  stand  on  the  side  of  human  progress.  In  the  book  "  The  Ne\ 
Time,"  he  enters  a  vigorous,  earnest  and  touching  plea  for  the  union  of  warring  sects  in  the 
great  cause  of  the  amelioration  of  human  misery,  whether  it  arises  from  poverty  or  guilt. 
Without  being,  in  any  respect,  a  sermon,  Mr.  Flower's  work  has  all  the  force  and  con 
vincing  power  of  the  pulpit.  Indeed  it  has  more,  for  the  pulpit  ii  often  enough  the 
vehicle  of  the  denunciation  of  opposing  sects  —  a  fact  which  occasionally  mars  it  useful 
ness  in  the  eyes  of  every  reflecting  man.  Mr.  Flower's  book  touches  briefly  on  the 
causes  of  much  of  human  suffering  and  crime,  and  proceeds  to  show  how  a  real  and  per 
manent  union  of  Christian  workers  of  all  denominations  can  be  achieved  and  what  noble 
results  will  spring  from  such  a  union.  --Daily  Item,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

ARENA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY,  Copley  Square,  Boston. 


Boston,   flass. 


Boston  Home 
Journal. 


Boston  Ideas. 


Philadelphia. 

Daily  Item. 


Civilization's  Inferno;  Or,  Studies  in  the  Social  Cellar. 

Price,  cloth,  $1.00;  paper,  50  cents. 

This  work  contains  vivid  peri  pictures  of  the  social  cellar  as  Mr.  Flower  found  it,  and  is  one  of  the  most  fear 
less  and  able  presentations  of  the  condition  of  society's  exiles  which  has  ever  been  made. 

It  carries  the  reader  into  the  social  cellar  where  uninvited  poverty  abounds,  and  from  there  into  the  sub-cellar, 
or  the  world  of  the  criminal  poor. 

It  is  rich  in  suggestive  hints,  and  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  thoughtful  man  and  woman  in  America. 
Absorbingly  interesting  and  at  times  thrilling,  no  one  can  read  its  pages  without  being  made  better  for  the  pe 
rusal. 

CRITICAL  OPINION  FROM  REPRESENTATIVE  AMERICAN  JOURNALS. 

Boston,    MaSS.  It  is  a  truthful  and  graphic  delineation  of  the  condition  of  the  people  in  the  social  un 

dertow.  Mr.  Flower  has  a  keen  and  profound  sympathy  with  the  difficulties  that  the  poor 
are  laboring  under,  and  he  describes  what  he  has  seen  with  his  own  eyes  in  terms  that 
chill  one's  blood.  He  does  not  hesitate  to  call  things  by  their  right  names,  and  points  out 
the  magnitude  of  the  peril,  showing  that  no  palliative  measures  will  satisfy  the  people. 

—  Daily  Herald,  Boston. 

A  book  which  should  be.  read  and  studied  by  all.  Mr.  Flower's  high  enthusiasm,  the 
artistic  impulse  which  has  guided  his  pen,  together  with  his  intimate  knowledge  gained 
by  personal  investigation  of  the  matter,  make  his  book  most  admirable.  —  Boston  Times. 

A  volume  of  remarkable  interest  and  power,  and  merits  the  careful  attention  of  all 
students  of  social  problems.  —  Boston  Daily  Traveler. 

He  literally  uncaps  the  pit,  the  hell  on  earth  ;  and  if  there  are  "the  pleasures  of  sin 
for  a  season,"  it  will  be  seen  that  the  season  is  not  a  long  one.  The  author  depicts  the 
scenes  he  has  witnessed,  and  has  the  moral  purpose — the  passion  fora  better  state  — 
which,  enlivening  his  pages,  makes  the  book  as  wholesome  as  it  is  inciting  to  practical 
endeavor.  —  Christian  Leader,  Boston. 

Society,  as  it  is  now  constituted,  is  nothing  less  than  a  sleeping  volcano.  Who  dares 
to  say  how  soon  the  upheaval  will  come,  or  whether  it  can  be  evaded  by  the  adoption  of 
prompt  measures  of  relief?  Certainly  the  condition  of  the  lower  social  strata  calls  for 
.immediate  action  on  the  part  of  those  whose  safety  is  at  stake.  Mr.  Flower  has  accom 
plished  a  great  work,  in  setting  forth  the  exact  truth  of  the  matter,  without  any  effort  at 
palliation.  It  will  be  well  indeed  for  the  prosperous  classes  of  the  community  if  they  are 
warned  in  time.  — Boston  Beacon. 

It  is  not  only  the  record  made  of  discoveries  during  a  period  of  systematic  slum 
ming,  but  it  is  also  a  philosophical  view  of  the  dangers  of  the  conditions  which  he  dis 
cusses.  —  Chicago  Times. 

The  work  is  a  masterly  presentation  of  social  conditions  around  us.  These  make  a 
vast  problem,  and  it  is  by  such  earnest  thinkers  as  Mr.  Flower  that  they  will  be  solved. 

—  Chicago  Herald. 

A  thoughtful  work  by  a  thoughtful  man,  and  should  turn  the  minds  of  many  who  are 
now  ignorant  or  careless  to  the  condition  of  the  countless  thousands  who  live  in  the  "  so 
cial  cellar."  No  one  can  read  the  book  without  feeling  that  the  author's  diagnosis  of  the 
case  is  true  and  gives  each  one  his  own  personal  responsibility.  —  Courier-Journal,  Lou 
isville,  Ky. 

What  General  Booth  has  done  for  London,  and  Mr.  Jacob  Riis  for  New  York,  Mr. 
Flower  has  done  for  cultured  Boston.  He  is  a  professional  man  of  letters,  and  tells  his 
story  with  the  skill  and  knack  of  his  craft. — Daily  Constitution,  Atlanta,  Ga. 

A  powerfully  written  book,  presenting  facts  which  ought  to  move  the  most  sluggish 
soul  to  resolve  and  action.  Its  whole  lesson,  sad  as  it  is,  is  one  that  needs  to  be  learned; 
and  we  will  not  detract  from  its  completeness  by  presenting  it  in  fragments ;  but  we  de 
sire  to  call  special  attention  to  the  author's  exposition  of  the  facts,  concerning  which  there 
has  been  so  much  scepticism,  that  the  rich  are  growing  richer  and  the  poor  poorer.  If 
there  is  any  lingering  belief  or  hope  in  the  mind  of  anybody  that  his  statement  is  a  mere 
partisan  bugaboo,  as  it  has  sometimes  been  styled,  Mr.  Flower's  book  will  settle  the  mat 
ter.  —  Daily  Free  Press,  Detroit,  Mich. 

In  this  book  the  great  social  problem  of  the  day  is  laid  before  the  reader  in  all  its  im 
portance,  its  increasing  dangers  are  pointed  out,  and  practical  remedies  suggested  in  a  way 
that  is  as  interesting  as  thoughtful.  We  are  glad  to  see  the  fashionable  extravagances 
and  vices  of  the  class  that  assumes  for  itself  the  title  of  "society"  treated  with  the  con 
demnation  they  deserve.  It  is  a  work  that  has  long  been  needed,  and  we  are  sure  it  will 
go  far  toward  the  end  it  looks  forward  to  so  hopefully. — Nassau  Literary  Magazin»t 
published  by  senior  class  of  Princeton  University,  Princeton,  N.  J. . 


Herald. 


Times. 


Christian  Leader. 


Beacon. 


Chicago,  III. 

Times. 

Herald. 

Louisville,  Ky. 

Courier-Journal. 

Ulanta,  Qa. 

Constitution. 

etroit,  Mich. 

Free  Press. 


rinceton  Uni 
versity. 

Nassau  Literary 
Magazine. 


ARENA    PUBLISHING    COMPANY, 

COPLEY    SQUARE,    BOSTON. 


The  Century  of  Sir  Thomas  More, 


BY 


B.    O.    FLOWER, 


Author  of  "Persons,  Places  and  Ideas,"  "Gerald  Massey," 
"The  New  Time,"    "Civilization's  Inferno,"  etc. 


Illustrated  with  full-page  drawing  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  and 
smaller  portraits  of  numerous  eminent  personages  of  the  first 
century  of  modern  times,  including  Michael  Angelo,  Raphael, 
Da  Vinci,  Correggio,  Titian,  Erasmus,  Luther,  Calvin,  Zwingli, 
Knox,  Melanchthon,  Columbus  and  Machiavelli. 


Gable  of  Contents* 

I.  The  New-  Learning  North  of  the  Alps. 

II.  The  Reformation  and  Some  of  Its  Leaders. 

III.  A  General  Survey  of  the  Italy  of  the  Renaissance. 

IV.  Some  Fatal  Figures  of  the  Italian  Renaissance. 
V.  Some  Bright  Lights  of  the  Italian  Renaissance. 

VI.  The  Spanish  Peninsula  of  This  Period. 

VII.  The  France  of  This  Age. 

VIII.  The  England  of  Sir  Thomas  More. 

IX.  The  Life  of  Sir  Thomas  More. 

X.  Utopia  Considered.     Part  I. 

XL  Utopia  Considered.     Part  II. 

XII.  The  Lives  of  Seneca  and  More  Compared. 

XIII.  A  General   Survey  of  the  First  Century  of  Modern   Times. 


Published    only   in   Cloth.  Gilt   side   and   back   dies. 

Price,   $1.50. 

THE   ARENA   PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

BOSTON,    MASS. 


14  DAY  USE 

TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 


Renewed  books  are  subject  ,o  immediate  recaU. 


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General  Library 

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Berkeley 


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